Love Eternal
by mabelreid
Summary: Sometimes, going into the Light is a choice. Maeve must make that choice, either move on after her death or stay with Reid. This ghost story picks up right after her shooting in Zugzwang.
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n this idea for a a ghost story, occurred to me a few weeks after Zugzwang. The majority of the story will be told from Maeve's point of view as she tries to make contact with Reid. Some of the cases we have seen on CM will be mentioned, but I have my own ideas about who the Replicator is, which is most probably different from what CM has planned._**

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes, was Spencer. That couldn't be right though, because he was on his knees and he wept. Why? Why did he sob like a heart-broken child?

"Spencer?"

He stared right through her as though she didn't exist. "Spencer? What's wrong?"

His wavy hair half covered his face, but she saw the rage in his kind eyes and she flinched.

"What happened?"

The last thing she remembered, she stood, held still by Diane who held a gun. Then she was there, free of her bonds and Spencer acted as if he didn't see her.

She waved her hands in desperation, but he just stared through her as if he'd gone blind. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

She jolted when he wailed her name and dropped his head forward to his knees.

"I'm right here," she stabbed out in irritation. "Look at me!"

She went to him and tried to hug him, but her hands and arms passed right through him, as if he were made of smoke. "Baby," she whispered as fear, larger than any she'd felt, even when Diane held a gun on her, rushed through her like a freezing wind.

One of the people, who'd ran into the room after Diane shot Spencer, hurried to him and tried to put her arms around him. "Reid," she said kindly.

He jolted away from her as though her touch electrocuted his skin. He unfolded his body and stood up like an arthritic old man.

"Maeve," he croaked and stepped away from her.

"I'm right here," she shouted, but he ignored her.

She yanked her eyes away from him when a very large black man with pity in his eyes tried to grab Spencer.

"No," he shouted and pulled away.

"She's gone, man."

"No, leave me alone," Spencer, screamed.

What did he mean? She's gone. Who was gone? Diane? How? They were there together and then there was… oh god, she couldn't remember. She turned back toward Spencer and saw for the first time what her eyes refused to see. She keened as an animal caught in a trap. It couldn't be true. It was too cruel. How could it happen at the happiest moment of her life? No, she'd close her eyes, and when she opened them, it would all be a dream. It was just her subconscious. She'd wake up, and when it was Sunday morning, Spencer would call her and she'd tell him that she wanted his team to help her.

She opened her eyes and the scene hadn't changed. Spencer had returned to his knees at her side, the other her, on the ground with a bullet wound in her head and scarlet blood, the darkest she'd ever seen, pooling around her like some obscene lake. Oh God! Oh God! No, it couldn't be true.

A light, brighter than the sun at noonday began to appear next to her, it grew brighter than any light she'd ever seen, but her eyes were somehow able to bear it. The light beckoned to her so strongly, that she took a step away from Spencer and the others. No one noticed the light but her. They didn't see her, and she suddenly realized that this wasn't a dream. It was real.

She took another step and then something seemed to hold her in place. A knowledge bloomed in her head, as a malignant plant bred to live and grow in some dark and dank, underground chamber.

She looked back at Spencer, who wailed and rocked back and forth at her side. He raised his hands and she saw that crimson blood covered them. As suddenly as the light appeared, so did the color all around her, snuff out like an extinguished flame of a candle. Only the blood retained its brightness and it stood out on Spencer's skin like an accusation.

"No," she shouted at the people around him that couldn't hear her. "It's not over."

They all stood with their backs to her. She went to the one with the beard and graying hair. She remembered his name from Spencer's description. It had to be David Rossi. She'd even read some of his books. Maybe he'd respond. She tried to touch him, but he didn't acknowledge her. "You have to help me," she shouted at him. He didn't flinch.

"Please, you have to help me."

She went to the blond woman that must be JJ. The woman was kneeling at Spencer's side and trying to talk to him while Maeve's blood soaked into the knees of her slacks.

"Help me," Maeve shouted again.

She went to the black man who was trying to lift Spencer to his feet. He was Morgan. Spencer said he was a friend. Perhaps he'd hear her. "Agent Morgan, please help me. It's not over."

The man didn't respond so Maeve tried to pick up the chair that Spencer had sat in before it all went down, but her hands passed through the wood just as they had through Spencer.

The dark haired man who had to be Agent Hotchner stood apart from them. She watched as his mouth twitched and his eyes began to shine with tears. The sorrow and pity in his eyes wasn't for her, it was for Spencer. She reached out and tried to put a hand on his arm. Her fingers hovered over his shoulder and she said. "I don't know what to do, Agent Hotchner. Please hear me, somehow."

He didn't move so she went back to Spencer and knelt in front of him. The bright light that had filled her gaze began to retreat until the room returned to normal.

"I promise I won't leave you until you're safe. I love you, Spencer."

He raised his head and for a heart stopping moment she thought that maybe he heard her. His red-rimmed eyes broke her heart. She reached out and let one hand hover over his check. Oh, it was so unfair that her life was over, that she'd never had the chance to get to know him and really experience love and life with him.

"Why?"

She jerked when he spoke and he still looked right at her as if he could see her. "I don't know," she said. "I'm so sorry. I should have let you help me. Please forgive me."

"Come on, man, let's get out of here."

Spencer ignored Morgan and looked down at his hands instead of at her and she wished that she could cry. It would soothe the ragged burning in her heart if she could give voice to her misery.

"Spence, we have to -"

"Leave me alone."

Maeve jerked at the nearly feral quality to Spencer's voice. He yanked his arm out of the JJ's grasp. "Just leave me alone," he demanded hoarsely.

"You can't stay here."

"You can't make me leave," he countered.

"Reid."

"I said no," he shouted. "All of you go away and leave me alone."

Hotch nodded when Morgan looked up at him. Morgan pulled JJ to her feet and shook his head at Blake who tried to talk to Reid. They all moved away to one corner of the room.

Maeve returned to her knees next to Spencer. "I wish I could go back and change everything," she said quietly. "If only I'd known…"

"Why did you leave me?"

She started at the question. He was staring at her body, as it lay unmoving in her blood. "Why?"

"I didn't want to."

"I love you," he whispered. "I'll never stop loving you for as long as I live."

"I love you too."

She waited and after awhile men and women came to the roof. They were probably crime scene people, she thought. They would take her body away and perform an autopsy. She found that didn't bother her as much as she once thought it would. She stood next to Spencer as he watched them work and then take her body and Diane's body away in those awful black bags.

He once again fell to his knees and began to sob. He didn't shake Blake away when she returned to his side and hugged him.

"Thank you for taking care of him," Maeve said to Blake. "He needs all of you."

Frustration welled up in her chest. Something was wrong and she couldn't figure out what it was. Spencer's team didn't realize that there was something out there, ten times worse than Diane. Maeve didn't know how she knew, but it seemed that she had use of some intuition hidden from her in her former life. She followed the team out of the building and stayed closed to Spencer as they separated into three black vehicles. If it took the rest of eternity, she'd figure out what shadow lay over the team, and Spencer. She'd make sure that he lived for many years, even if it meant she had to wait for him to return to her on the other side of eternity.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n thank you all for your kind reviews, and all of you who follow and have added the story to your favorites. A big shout out to my beta for all of her help with this story. You are the best sounding board and friend a writer can have. _**

Maeve trailed after Agent Morgan and Agent Jareau as they followed Spencer up a flight of narrow stairs in an unfamiliar apartment building.

"Please just go away and leave me alone," Spencer said in a lifeless and hollow way that made her shiver.

They stood in front of a green door with the number twenty-three on it. Spencer pulled a set of keys from his bag, and reached for the doorknob.

"I'm not leaving you alone -"

Spencer turned on JJ and his eyes were utterly dead.

"Go away."

His voice was barely a whisper and his face was shock white.

"Alright, kid, we'll leave you alone." Morgan stepped back from him in surrender.

"But, Morgan -"

He grabbed JJ's arm. "Let's go. He wants to be alone, so we'll leave him alone."

She yanked out of Morgan's grasp and reached over to hug Spencer. He stood there, his arms at his sides, until she released him.

"Call me if you need anything," she said.

He simply stared over her shoulder and directly at Maeve. She smiled at him, even thought she knew he couldn't see her.

His teammates left in silence and when Maeve turned her attention back to Spencer, he was staring at this apartment door. He finally lifted his hand like a man in the grip of somnambulism and inserted his key. The clack and scrape of the key in the lock as he turned it, was the loudest thing in the building.

He opened the door and let it swing forward on silent hinges. He didn't step over the threshold for a long time. She watched him and wished she could say something, anything, to make his eyes come back from that haunted place. He suddenly entered the apartment and slammed the door behind him so hard, it rattled for a few seconds. She jerked back in surprise and automatically raised her hand to knock. Her hand passed through the door as she heard the lock engaging. She pulled her hand back out of the door, and marveled that this was her new reality. She didn't feel pain of the flesh anymore, no more hunger and no more fatigue. The only pain was of the spirit and her heart hurt so much, she wished with all her soul that she could cry.

She put both hands at her sides and wanted to breathe deep, but she didn't need to breathe anymore. She straightened her shoulders and stepped forward. When she opened her eyes, she wasn't on the other side of Spencer's door. She was standing near a stained glass window with a beautiful mosaic of blues, greens and purples.

She looked around and found Spencer sitting on a leather sofa, with his back to the door. She hurried over to stand in front of him when he said. "Maeve."

"I'm here."

"I miss you."

"I know, I'm so sorry."

Tears cascaded down his cheeks. She reached out, but her fingers passed right through his head. She screamed a scream of utter frustration that had no release possible.

She let her hand hover over him. Oh, if only she could touch him. She ached to touch his hands that were like the hands of a concert pianist. They were so delicate and yet strong at the same time. Why had fate stolen her life before she had the chance to feel his fingers on her skin?

"Please come back to me."

"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm never leaving you."

"Why won't you come back to me? What did I do?"

She jerked in shock, again. "You didn't do anything, Spencer. It was my fault."

"It's my fault," he said.

"No!"

"Why couldn't I talk her down?"

"Spencer, please stop it."

He suddenly shifted and lay down on his side with his legs pulled up in the fetal position. He began to sob like a badly abused child and the pain in her heart grew until she had to scream in despair. Her wail filled the apartment, but Spencer didn't move or even flinch at the heartbroken cry.

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The clock on his wall reached midnight at the same time he sat up with eyes swollen from crying and shuffled through a door and down a short hall. She followed him into another room and stopped at the threshold. It was a small bedroom with a neatly made bed facing the door with an elaborately carved wooden headboard against the wall. She flicked her eyes away and saw that Spencer was unbuttoning his shirt. She turned away, absurdly mortified, and glided back out to the living room. She decided to have a look around the room and then, after a decent interval, she'd go back and make sure he went to sleep.

The living room nearly made her smile. It wasn't anything like she imagined. She liked the green walls and the rug on the floor. It wasn't a surprise that he had so many books in floor to ceiling bookcases. He loved books more the she, which never failed to delight her. In the days after her stalker began to torment her, reading was the only thing that got her through the day.

She went to the table near one of his windows. The night pressed in from the outside as though it wanted to claim her when she looked out of the glass.

It wasn't a surprise to see the beautifully carved, wooden chess set. He talked about chess nearly as much as books. She reached out and tried to move one of the knights, but her fingers passed through it. She hissed in frustration. There had to be away. She had to let him know that she was there to keep him safe.

A wailing cry, like that of a suffering animal, drew her attention away from the room with all its furnishings that belonged in another time. She blinked and there she was, in his bedroom again.

He sat on the edge of his bed, wearing pajamas and a very old robe. He was crying again, and she couldn't stand it. She was dead! She had new talents. She could move from place to place in an instant, but she couldn't touch him, or give him comfort. It wasn't fair!

"Why?"

She screamed it out to the universe. If there was a God, or some ultimate force of Good, why?

"Tell me what to do," she cried out to whoever or whatever might be listening.

The only sound was the heart wrenching sobs of the man she loved more than her life. She'd give it again willingly to take away his awful pain.

She should have trusted Spencer to help her. She fisted her hands at her sides and closed her eyes. If only, there was something to do besides just stand here.

Another moaning cry from Spencer brought her to his side. "Please try to sleep," she cried.

He just sat there and stared ahead as though he saw something in the blackness of the room. His eyes, so beautiful and heartbreaking shined with unshed tears. She attempted to sit next to him and found that she didn't sink through the bed to the floor, as she feared. Why could she sit, but not touch anything? It didn't make sense.

She tried again to reach out and clasp his hand, but her fingers passed through it like smoke on the wind. "I'm sorry," she said haltingly. "I wish -"

He turned toward her and reached out with one hand as though he knew she was there. She closed her eyes and waited for the touch of his hand, but nothing happened.

He lay down, passing through her like water over rocks in a streambed. His warmth and the smell of him brought more searing pain to her throat. If only she could stay there forever.

He turned away from her and faced the wall. "Do you remember the first time we talked on the phone? She asked him "We'd been writing letters for a few weeks. I was so nervous because I thought we wouldn't have anything to say, and then I heard your voice for the first time. You had such a cute squeak."

She stood up and went to the window again. "I never wanted our conversation to end, but we had to say goodbye eventually. Every time we had to say goodbye, it was as if someone ripped my heart out. I love you so much."

She went back to the bed and found that he lay awake, but he'd stopped crying. She lay down on the other side of the bed and faced him. It was strange that she could see perfectly well in the ebony blackness of the winter night. How blind she'd been with her human eyes.

She reached out and let her fingers hover near his face. It never mattered to her what he looked like, but if she had decided to look him up on the internet, and she had seen how attractive he was, she might have lost the courage to meet him. When Dianne had pulled off the blindfold in that room and she'd seen his face for the first time, her heart had raced like she'd run for miles. He was like an angel fallen from heaven.

"I wish I knew what you thought of me. Were you disappointed?"

She laughed bitterly. Why lay here and speculate when it didn't matter anymore?

"Please go to sleep," she said.

His eyes fluttered and then opened wide. "I need you," he said softly.

"I'm right here."

"Can't sleep," he sounded like an exhausted child.

"I know. I wish I could help."

He turned over and lay on his back on top of the bedspread. "I want to die."

She jolted and threw out a hand to him that passed through his torso and into the bed. "No," she shouted. "No."

He put one hand to his eyes and pinched his nose. "Forgive me," he said suddenly. "If you can hear me, Maeve, please forgive me."

"It wasn't your fault," she cried. "Stop blaming yourself."

He turned away from her so she got to her feet and crouched down at the side of the bed. "You get that out of your head this instant, Spencer Reid. You did everything you could. It's not your fault. It's my fault. I should have let you bring in your team to help. You're the one that should forgive me. I wouldn't blame you if you hated me for the rest of your life."

She stood up again and went to the window. It wasn't over. She'd been just a pawn in a game. There was someone else out there, someone worse than Dianne. She knew it with a certainty she'd never had before, as though death had awakened something in her.

"Be careful," she whispered to him as he finally fell into a fitful sleep. "Please be careful, my love."


	3. Chapter 3

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

It was strange to see the light as it changed on Spencer's face. Her eyes didn't need to adjust as the room slipped easily from ebony, to deep pewter, to the soft ash gray of winter skies. Her human eyes wouldn't have detected the subtle changes, but now she saw everything and more than she wanted.

She reached out and tried to touch his tangled hair, but once again, her fingers passed through his forehead. She hissed out in frustration, and then froze as his eyes fluttered open.

"Good morning," she said softly.

He turned to his back and tears began to seep out of his eyes and roll down his face to drip and stain the milk chocolate cotton sheets. He lifted an arm and put it over his face. She blinked her eyes and stood at the foot of his bed. She realized sometime in the night that her feet didn't quite touch the ground and neither did she sit or lay, but hovered like… well like a ghost. She almost laughed at the absurdity of her afterlife. It wasn't at all what she expected, but then, she'd never known anyone that had crossed over and returned to tell the tale.

Her eyes flicked back to Spencer as he slowly sat up and slipped off the bed. He just stood there staring at the door to the hallway and the rest of his apartment. His eyes were utterly dead and his shoulders stooped as if they carried the weight of Atlas. She stepped forward in reflex, to hold him up, but continued right through the footboard until she stood in the middle of the unmade bed.

"Damn it," she yelled and strode out of the bed to his side. "I thought ghosts were supposed to make things happen like banging, and chain rattling."

She stopped because Spencer shuffled forward like a man in his nineties toward the door. "Baby, I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just so frustrated. What am I saying? You can't hear me. That's the problem. Why did I ignore the Light and stay here. I can't help you. I should just go."

She looked around as if the Light would appear just because she wanted it to, but it didn't.

Spencer went into the hall and through another door. He snapped on the light and she saw that it was a bathroom. He shut the door and she stood there and laughed. Oh, the irony of it all. It would appear that she had to finish her so-called unfinished business. Isn't that what they all said, that ghosts stayed on the earthly plane because they have unfinished business? Well, call in the paranormal investigators. Perhaps they could help her. Where were all the people in the world that could see dead people? Why couldn't she find someone like that girl on that television show, the "Ghost Whisperer?" She didn't need someone to whisper to her. She needed someone to shout, to tell Spencer that she'd love him forever, that he was in danger and needed to be careful or he'd - no, she wouldn't let that happen to him even if it meant they could be together. He had to stay alive. There was more for him to do. She knew it like she now knew the contours of his face.

She flinched back to reality when the toilet flushed and water ran from the bathroom. Spencer opened the door and went to the living area of the apartment. She stood near the sofa when he entered the room and reached for his messenger bag. She wanted desperately to cry when she watched him reach into the bag and pull out a book. It was "The Narrative of John Smith."

He opened it and turned to the inscription she'd written for him. More tears traced down his reddened cheeks from eyes angry and swollen from crying. Her eyes followed his finger as it traced over the words she'd written. He tucked the book into his arms like a well beloved child and lay down on the sofa.

She crouched down next to him and tried again to touch his face. His eyes stared directly at her, but through her as though he were trying to see into eternity. She looked back and let the rest of the world go away as her vision tunneled into his eyes. Long minutes passed and she found that she could stare at him forever because there was no need to blink. Still, she jerked when he reached up and wiped away tears. More minutes that stretched out like hours passed until he fell asleep again. She watched his chest rise and fall and almost smiled when a happy sigh drifted from him. His lips curved up in a smile.

"Maeve," he said softly, with just a hint of something that sounded like seduction.

She blinked in shock at the tone she'd never heard in his voice and suddenly, she wasn't in Spencer's apartment anymore.

Instead, she stood in a room without windows, with a heavy wooden door and a computer on a small table. A man sat at the table and she flinched away from him. Her eyes darted around the room and horror she'd never known knotted in her stomach. There were photographs all over the walls of people she'd never seen and they were dead in terrible ways, a limb cut off and replaced, mouths sewn shut and other unspeakable images.

The worst were all the pictures of Spencer and the members of his team. She'd received pictures like this from her stalker. No, not again. She would not let this happen to Spencer or any of his team. There had to be a way. She closed her eyes again and when she opened them, she stood near the chessboard in Spencer's apartment.

"No," she shouted and reached for one of the chess pieces. Her hand passed through the rook, but it rocked just the tiniest bit.

She froze and reached for the piece again and jolted when Spencer screamed behind her. She whirled around and saw that Spencer sat up his eyes wild and staring. He screamed and she thought that somehow he could see her, that the veil over his eyes that kept her from his sight, had lifted.

"Spencer -"

He jerked, his eyes cleared and he passed his hands over them. His renewed sobs pulled her over to him in an instant. "Baby."

He lay down and crossed his arms over his chest. She tried to touch him, but whatever had happened with the chess piece had been a momentary fluke.

"I can't stand this," she cried.

She crouched on her knees next to him and waited as he sobbed. It took more than an hour, but Spencer finally stopped crying and lay there staring at the wall.

"You didn't see me," she said calmly. "It was a nightmare. I'm so sorry. I promise I'm going to make it better and keep you safe."

"Are you there?"

She didn't try to touch him again. "Yes. I'm here.

He sat up and picked up his copy of "The Narrative of John Smith."

"How will I go on without you?"

"You will," she whispered.

Oh, how it hurt. She'd have to leave him sometime and go on from here to whatever waited for her. It was going to hurt worse than anything she'd ever known in her life. Funny, how could she know that her death would be more painful than her life?

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It was night again when Spencer slept. She watched him relax back down into dreams. "Please," she begged "if someone's listening, let him have pleasant dreams.

She went to the chess set again and tried to touch the rook on the black side. Her fingers passed through it and she closed her eyes in frustration. She opened her eyes and found that she stood in the same room with all the pictures.

The lack of normal human reaction to stress caused to her ball her hands into fists. Her heart should be racing and sweat popping out on her head. She couldn't even smell anything, which was strange because somehow she could hear everything, and see more.

She went to one of the walls and tried to pull off one of the photos. Her fingers passed uselessly through the paper and she screamed out in rage. "Damn you," she cried.

Over her rage a door opened and slammed closed. She whirled and saw a man. He wore jeans and a light blue jersey topped with a leather jacket. He pulled it off and tossed it over a chair. His face was the most ordinary she'd ever seen. He didn't smile as he went to a table in the center of the room and turned on a computer.

"Who are you?"

Her shout went unheard in the small room. She moved to his side and reached out for his shoulder.

"Who the hell are you? What do you want with Spencer's team? Tell me, god damn it!"

He smiled as images came up on his screen. More images of people killed in terrible ways. He clicked some keys and laughed a loud when pictures of Alex Blake appeared.

"Stop laughing, you sick bastard."

He leaned back in his chair and turned his head as if he heard her. She automatically flinched back, but he wasn't looking at her. He seemed fascinated by the photos on his wall.

"What do you want? I'm going to find out who you are and a way to tell Spencer. He'll take you down."

The man only smiled and got up to go to his wall. He traced a finger over one of Spencer's pictures. He picked up a heavy black grease pencil from the long rectangular table holding photographic developing equipment and wrote something across the face of the picture.

She couldn't move. For the first time since her death, she couldn't make her limbs react. "NO!"

He laughed. "Shut up, you fucking bastard."

He laughed so loud it filled the room and she lifted her hands to cover her ears, but it got through just the same.

She turned away from him and stared at the photograph. The word stood out like an accusation against the backdrop of Spencer's face.

**_ZugZwang._**

"What are you doing?"

She realized that she was back, next to him and screaming into his face. "What does it mean?"

He'd stopped laughing, but his eyes, as deep and dark as the path to Hell, crinkled up at the edges. He put his hands together and tapped his fingers while he watched more video of Alex Blake teaching a class.

"Answer me, what does it mean?"

She threw her arm out to point at the photograph. Then, the flash came, just like before and she knew what the word meant. She straightened her shoulders and walked around to stand in front of him. "I'll find a way to stop you."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

It went on like that for another week. Every day was the same. She watched him sleep, or rather suffer through endless nightmares when he did sleep. She cringed every time he cried out her name; her heart broke repeatedly when he sobbed, alone in the darkest hours before the dawn. He didn't eat, he didn't take his vitamins and she wondered how long it would take before another of his headaches claimed him. He ignored when his friends called and when Garcia knocked on his door. He just floated through life like a… well he wandered like a ghost. The worst part was that he stopped talking to her as though he somehow knew she was there. He became utterly silent.

She sat a few inches above the sofa where he lay with his body in the fetal position and the book she gave him in his arms. He didn't flinch when someone knocked on the door.

"Reid, its Garcia."

She watched his eyes for recognition, but he didn't blink, just stared at the wall opposite the couch.

"Please talk to me."

Maeve turned her head toward the door. "He won't talk to anyone," she said.

"I just want to know you're okay. We love you, Reid. Please let me help you get through this."

Maeve watched Spencer. Something flickered in his eyes. He stopped staring at the wall and sat up.

She didn't hear Reid's friend at the door anymore, still she glided through the wall and found the hallway empty except for three baskets of flowers, plants and snacks. She smiled for the first time in eight days. Then her smile faded. She couldn't get through to him any more than his friends could make him see that her death wasn't his fault.

She slipped back through the door and glided over to the bookcase. She reached out for an old copy of "The Hound of the Baskervilles."

"Why do you try? You can't move it."

Her fingers closed over the leather cover and the book began to slowly slide back toward her. She froze in surprise.

"Hey," she called over her shoulder. "I moved -"

"What does she know," Spencer suddenly said. "They don't understand. I'm surprised she didn't drag out her iron clad belief that everything happens for a reason."

He leapt up from the sofa with more energy than Maeve had seen for the last week. He walked right through her when she tried to embrace him. He yanked a book from a shelf and flipped it open. She stared open mouthed as he searched through random pages and read faster than she'd ever seen.

"Has to be in here somewhere," he muttered.

She flinched when he tossed the book to the floor. "I'm gonna find it."

"What, baby," she said. "What're you looking for?"

He pulled another book off the shelf and flipped through its pages. He tossed it away from him like a wolf tossing bad meat from its jaws. The book passed through her and hit the ground with another thud.

"Spencer, stop it."

"Can't find it. Have to find the answer. There has to be one."

"You're scaring me," she shouted as he tossed more books around the room.

Some of them fell shut, some fell open on their spines and some of the pages tore or bent.

"Please, stop it," she wailed.

The copy of "The Hound of the Baskervilles," suddenly shot out of its place and landed on the floor, but Spencer didn't see it.

She went over, bent down and tried to pick it up, but she couldn't move it now. The burst of energy was over for both of them. Spencer sat with his back at the door and sobbed into his hands.

Oh, how she wanted to scream in fury, but it didn't help. It hadn't helped in the last week. She knew they were on their own and all she could do was watch him descend further into darkness where the light seemed so far away.

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Seven days later she watched him make his way to the door of his apartment. He sat on the floor in front of it as though guarding the way from some terrible monster that might attack at any minute. She floated in the air next to him and watched his dead eyes stare at the back of his couch.

"Spencer, I -"

A knock sounded at the door and she flinched in surprise. This time it was Miss Garcia and Agent Jareau. She laughed when Miss Garcia told Spencer to knock if he were conscious. Another pang of longing for her life, hit her. She liked Garcia and wished she'd had the chance to get to know her.

Even more surprising was Spencer's response. Something flickered in his eyes and they cleared for a moment. The pain and sorrow in them as he raised a hand to knock on his own door nearly undid her.

She drifted behind him as he stood and went to his couch. He hugged her book to his chest and lay down. However, he didn't stay there for hours as he had in days past. His eyes cleared again and he went to his door. He came back with several of the gift baskets he'd been ignoring and began to go through them.

Hope flared in her chest. If he had interest in the gift baskets, then maybe, somehow he was pulling out of the black depression that was her fault.

He opened a bag of nuts and began eating very slowly. She went to him and sat a few inches above the couch.

"Yes," she nodded eagerly. "The magnesium in the nuts will produce serotonin and improve your mood. Your friend is smart. She must care about you very much. I'm glad you have her."

He didn't stop eating until he emptied one bag of nuts.

He sat back on the couch and stared at the table until his phone rang. He ignored it as usual and the flare of hope in her chest died a little. She heard Agent Morgan's voice on the answering machine.

"He wants to help you. Why don't you call him back?"

She bit back on the anger that rose up in her throat. Spencer seemed determined to sit there and waste away.

"I'm not going to let you wallow," she said briskly. "It hurts me to the core to see you this way. I know you love me, but you have to let it go. Let your friends help you. Find someone else to love."

Oh, how it hurt to say the words, but he couldn't just stay there in that same robe for the rest of his life. He needed someone to take care of him.

"Please, get up and go on with your life. I need to see you smile again."

He ignored her, so she went to the bookcase and tried to make a book fall, but it didn't work this time. She fisted her hands and screamed in frustration, despite knowing that it did no good.

She stared out the window a few hours later when the phone rang yet again. It was Agent Morgan and he said something about someone cutting off the eyelids of a woman. She flinched, and suddenly realized for the first time what kind of job Spencer chose to do every day.

"How do you do it?"

To her utter surprise after a very short pause, she watched him pick up the phone and dial it. She almost laughed at his old-fashioned phone with push buttons. She hadn't seen one of those in years. It suited him, though, just like the rest of his apartment.

"Were the corneas injured?" She heard him ask his teammate.

His voice was rusty from disuse, but she thrilled to hear him speak again, even if he'd stopped trying to talk to her.

He went back to staring at the wall after hanging up. She stood in front of him and studied his beautiful hazel eyes. Something shifted in them again, and it was like seeing someone wake up from a long sleep, or unconsciousness. He blinked and reached for the phone.

The next thing she knew, someone named Anderson knocked on the door. Spencer greeted him and took some files and other papers. She watched him with growing horror and happiness as he went through horrible crime scene photos and a map. He put everything up on a clear space on his wall. She tried not to look, but they drew her in against her will.

She glided up to stand next to him as he studied the map. His eyes were coming alive and she rejoiced in their light. He looked around as if he couldn't find something important. He went to his kitchen and pulled open a drawer. He took out a pen and hurried back to the map. He was moving faster than she'd seen in two weeks and it made her smile like a kid on the first day of summer.

After awhile, and after he'd made several marks on the map, he went to the phone and dialed a number. He talked to Agent Morgan and Miss Garcia. She didn't listen to the words, so much as the tone of his voice. She'd begun to believe he'd given up, that she'd never hear anything in his voice but searing pain. The pain was still there, but it didn't overwhelm everything that he was.

"I don't understand," he said suddenly. "There's something else here. Why remove the plasma from the blood?"

"Hemophilia," she said as if he could hear her.

He stopped pacing and stared right at her as if he could see her. She stepped back and nearly glided through one of the walls.

"Yes," he said, "hemophilia."

He turned away from her and hurried back to his bedroom. She followed him and stopped in shock to see that he was stripping away the pajamas and robe he'd worn for the last two weeks.

She whirled around and went back to the living area. A few minutes passed and she heard the shower come on. She was grinning like an idiot, but also wondering what he was thinking. If only this death thing came with the ability to read minds.

When he entered the living room again, he was dressed, but not shaved, still she liked it. It made him look dangerous, even though his eyes were still more dead than alive.

He walked toward the door in the manner of someone that didn't want to go through it. He stopped and looked at the doorknob as though it were something he didn't quite know how to use.

"What if I can't go back?"

"You can," she said. "It'll be alright."

"What if I make another mistake?"

She slipped through him and turned around so that she stood half in the door and half in the room. "Is that what you think, that you made a mistake? You didn't make a mistake, Spencer Reid. Dianne was on her course long before you or I showed up. All she needed was an excuse and you and I were the most convenient one for her to use. I believe in you, Spencer and I'll be here when you get back."

He nodded as if he heard her, and opened the door. She lifted her hand to wave, then something pulled her along that she couldn't stop. She floated behind him as if tethered to him by some invisible line. It seemed that they were tied together for the near future. She shivered and wondered that was a good or a bad thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n some dialog in this chapter is taken directly from Magnum Opus. Thank you all for your support of this story. _**

The strangest thing about leaving the apartment and remaining tied to Spencer, were all the people. Her time with Spencer in his place began to seem like a dream. Despite the black mood he'd lived in for the last two weeks, they'd been alone and she'd become accustomed to just the two of them.

The flight out to California seemed to take forever, and only minutes at the same time. The plane was completely filled so she hovered in the aisle next to Spencer and the middle-aged businessman that sat next him on the left side of the plane. She began ignoring the flight attendants after realizing there was no way to stay out of their way. They walked through her and, like Spencer, didn't realize she was there.

When they met up with his team in the police station, she felt a relief so great she might have collapsed had she been alive. She watched the blonde agent hug him as the others greeted him with obvious pleasure. They all seemed to care a great deal about him and it made her somewhat sad. She'd lost all of her friends when she'd had to go into hiding and she never got the chance to see them again.

By the time, it was over and the un-sub, as Spencer's team called him, was dead, she began to understand why Spencer's job meant so much to him. They made a difference; which is something she had always wanted to do with her work.

She decided that she liked the FBI jet much better than commercial flying. She sat, instead of floating in the aisle and listened to Spencer talk to JJ. It was so good to see him smile a little.

"Well, I counted five baskets," JJ was saying.

"Seven, but I think Miss Cavanaugh next door took a couple. You guys, I'm sorry if I've been a little -"

"Spence, don't…"

"Kid, I didn't mean for you to come all the way out there," Morgan said.

"I know."

"Listen, if there's anything you need, you just have to ask."

"Actually, there is one something if you guys don't mind."

"Name it."

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It was strange. It felt like everything was changing, and yet it all felt the same when she passed through the door as Spencer, JJ, Morgan and Garcia entered his apartment. He told them what he wanted them to do and she smiled, but it was a cautious smile. She fisted her hands at her sides and tried to concentrate on the bookcase because one of them was looking at it at all times.

_This isn't the time to worry about your poltergeist skills. _

_But if one them sees…._

They stacked up books and put them away. Miss Garcia opened the curtains at the windows and took down the terrible crime scene photos on the wall. Soon everything seemed sunny and bright in the room. In fact, it was brighter than she'd seen it since the day she… No, she wasn't going to think about the day she died. The past had to be past now that there was no more reason to worry about time.

She watched him hug his teammates in turn and a sudden rage filled her. It wasn't fair that they could touch him, make him feel cared for and loved and she couldn't. She fisted her hands and growled like an angry cat. She stood next to the chessboard, but she didn't notice that the black King slid forward into one of the pawns. The others didn't notice and neither did Spencer. He went to his messenger bag after they left and opened it. He took out the book she'd given him and opened the cover. She read over his shoulder, the words she'd written for him. They seemed so trite and naïve. What did Thomas Merton know anyway? If you were supposed to find love together, why did a psycho take it all away? Spencer went to the bookcase. She watched him return the book to its place on the shelf. Something broke inside her and the old overwhelming urge to cry reasserted itself with a vengeance.

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A few hours later, when the sun had set in a riot of red and orange, she drifted back to the bookcase. She reached out for a book on aberrant psychology and concentrated.

"You can do it."

_Why?_

She stopped trying to pull the book from its place and stood stock-still. "I have to let him know that I'm here."

_Why? You can see that he's beginning to heal._

She turned around to where he sat on the couch. He'd actually made a meal. It was only a ham and cheese sandwich, with a little bowl of pasta salad that Garcia had brought for him when she came to help with the books. He'd drunk a bottle of cold green tea with lemon instead of coffee and he'd taken his vitamins. It was a good sign. Why mess it up by letting him know she was still there.

"Because I want to talk to him, just one more time."

_This isn't about you. You're the one that's dead. You need to let him get on with his life._

She tried to ignore the sensible voice in her head and concentrate on moving a book. A movement caught her eye and she saw that Spencer went to an old record player in one corner of the room. He pulled a record out of its sleeve and turned on the turntable. She floated to him, drawn by the music that began to play. It was her favorite "Adagio for strings," performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra. It had a sad and melancholy mood to it that always soothed her mind, until now.

She stood with Spencer as he just stared at the record as it circled around and around on the turntable and the music played. Tears that she thought he managed to push away began trailing down his face as he listened to it.

"I don't know how," he said softly.

"How to what, baby?"

"I don't know how to go on without you."

She reached out and her fingers passed uselessly through his arm. Frustration and anger flared up again. She fisted her hands so tight, that if she'd still been alive her fingernails would be cutting into her flesh.

The music changed. It began to soar, like one voice rising above a choir. It was her favorite part of the piece. It always made her heart soar with it's beauty, but today it sounded like a scream. It sounded like his scream when she died.

Spencer suddenly jolted, pulled the needle off the record with a scratching scrape that crackled through the speakers. He raised the record over his head and dashed it against the edge of the table. It shattered and he fell to his knees.

"Why did you leave me?"

She floated back in surprise when he seemed to look right at her. "I didn't want to go, Spencer I -"

"It's your fault," he raged. "You wouldn't let me help you and now you're dead. If you'd just let me call in my team when I wanted to, we could've caught Diane unaware. I could've saved you."

"Spencer, I'm sorry, I only wanted keep you safe."

"I hate you!"

Pain such as she'd never known took residence through her whole soul. It felt like someone had punched her in the gut. She screamed like a wild cat in the wilderness.

She barely saw that Spencer sobbed wildly where he lay on his side on the floor with his hands clasped over his face. "I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I don't hate you. Please make this a dream and come back to me."

She forgot that she couldn't draw breath anymore and sucked in air that didn't penetrate her body-less soul.

"I'm sorry," he repeated and the agony of his soul pulled her to him so that she knelt next to him.

"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you, baby. I love you so much."

She didn't realize that her arm circled his shoulders, and hugged him without passing through his body.

"I wish I could see you one more time."

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere until you're ready."

He stood up and the spell was broken. He passed through her and walked back to his bedroom. She stood floating and staring at the broken pieces of the record laying on the floor. There had to be some way to make things right again.

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Another week passed and once more, she found herself on the jet with the team. They were on their way to look for a couple of missing girls. She felt only sympathy for this man, who'd lost his wife until it began to look like he was the one that killed the wife and possibly his girls. She was ready to believe it until they found Sera and it became clear fast that there was something else going on.

She floated near Spencer's side when he sent a text to JJ, and asked her if everything was okay. Everything seemed to move very fast after that and she was with Spencer and Morgan in the basement of Sera's house. It was like déjà vu all over again. Morgan and Spencer had guns on Sera who tried to make them think that JJ wanted to hurt her.

This time everything ended with the killer in handcuffs and everyone alive. Why didn't it work that way for her? It wasn't fair. She stamped her foot and sank half down through the basement stairs.

"Damn it."

If she could still blush, her face would be bright red. She found that she could just rise back up out of the stairs and up to the door. Spencer would laugh if he could see her. She stopped right in the act of walking through the door. That was the problem, he couldn't see her.

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When they arrived at Spencer's apartment, he went to the couch and sat down. She sat next to him and let her hand hover over one of his hands. "I'm so glad you're okay."

He got up and went to the bookcase. He pulled out his copy of "The Narrative of John Smith," and went back to the couch.

"I miss you," he said softly. "I wish I could've saved you."

She didn't respond because there was nothing to say and he couldn't hear her. It was useless to pretend that he could, so she just sat there and tried to make him know that she'd always love him.

He finally went to his bedroom. She joined him after he turned off the light. She lay down and faced him just like she did every night. "I love you," she said, just like every night.

"I love you, Maeve."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Spencer stood in front of a group of people Maeve had never seen. She had noticed that there was a sign that said this was the Beltway Clean Cops. He'd told her about this group. She'd seen him take out his medallion in the last couple of days and play with it like a magician on the street, but he hadn't come here until that night.

"My name is Spencer," she heard him say.

For some reason it made her sad and so full of pride at the same time. He was so strong and so fragile all at once. Did these people know how much they benefited from him and how much they helped him in return? She could see it in his face. His eyes were losing the dead cast they'd had for weeks.

She floated next to him and listened as he spoke about her and her death. He spoke about her and her life. He told them all, how much he'd loved her and how much he missed her. He said things about her that he'd never told her when they spoke on the phone, all the things he regretted not telling her when he had the chance.

"You didn't know," she said desperately.

Oh how she wanted to weep. How she wanted her physical body's reactions, but all she could do was fist her hands at her sides and try not to wail at the agony that filled her being.

"I know how much you loved me," she said to him. "It was in everything you said, every time you tried to help me, and in your eyes the first time I saw you."

He sat down after a long pause and listened as others stood and talked to the group. She began to laugh as the meeting broke up. Why didn't ghosts have their own support groups? Surely, there had to be others in her predicament.

She was jolted out of her thoughts when an older man with graying hair and glasses approached Spencer.

He clapped Spencer on the shoulder and asked him if he wanted coffee.

She followed them to the back of the room. "I didn't know if I'd see you back here," the man was saying.

"I didn't want to come back until today. I woke up this morning with an overwhelming urge to go to a meeting."

"I'm glad. We missed you. I'm so sorry, Spencer, for your loss."

She watched Spencer get some coffee from the silver urn at the back of the room. "Thanks, John. It doesn't seem real in some ways. There are times when I could swear…"

He trailed off and looked down into his cup. This John person touched him on the shoulder again. "You could swear that she's still with you."

"I am still here!"

"Yeah, sometimes when I'm working I get these little flashes. It's almost as if I can hear her voice. When I wake up in the morning and my eyes aren't focused, I sometimes think I can see her lying there with me. That's crazy, right."

"No, it's not crazy. Your mind and heart is trying to cope with a horrible and tragic loss."

"No… that's not it, Spencer. I'm here and you're still in danger."

She looked up at the sky and screamed. "Whoever's up there and in control, why did you let me stay here? Why did you let me see the evil man after Spencer and I can't show him? Damn you! Come down here and tell me why or let me cross over."

Nothing happened: no lights in the sky, no thunder or lightening and no enlightenment for her. She floated off from Spencer to the other side of the room. She didn't want to hear any more from that John person about his theories on grief. What did he know?

_That's right, sulk like you're still human. That's productive. _

She hung her head and desperately wished she could feel the weight of exhaustion on her neck. If she could only feel human again.

_And what would that accomplish. You're free of your human weaknesses. Use it!_

How?

She glided back to Spencer, who was talking to a man wearing a hideous brown suit and a yellow shirt. His graying hair had receded all the way to the back of his head. His face was round, but his grey eyes were kind.

"…glad to see you back," he was saying to Spencer.

"Thanks, Gary. I missed you guys, even if I didn't know it for a couple of weeks."

"Well, we are like a very strange family."

A smile that lit Spencer up like the sun in the sky made her frustration begin to ebb like the tide.

"I'm glad we are," Spencer said.

"My son has a basketball game this weekend. Want to come?"

Spencer's smiled faltered just a little. "I don't know, Gary. I'm not sure -"

The man nodded and patted Spencer on the back. "I'm pushing too soon. I just want you to get out and maybe spend a little time thinking about something other than blood and death."

Maeve nodded her head. "Yes, you need to get out of the apartment and somewhere besides work."

Spencer sighed. "I promise I'll think about it."

"I'm going to hold you to that. Now, you remember where the school is, right?"

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Another two weeks passed at a faster pace because Spencer went to work every day, but nothing happened to bring her closer to finding the one that wanted to hurt him. Then, something changed.

They'd arrived at work, as was her new routine. JJ, the blonde agent that he'd barely spoken about to Maeve when she was still alive, was talking to him. They noticed that Alex, the dark haired agent that Maeve liked enormously was talking to SC Strauss. Maeve wasn't sure that she liked this woman. There was something about her…

Her attention returned to Spencer when JJ said. "I think Blake could take her. What do you think?"

"Hm… Their body language hardly seems adversarial…"

Maeve chuckled as Spencer went into a complete explanation of why the two women wouldn't try to take each other down. He never just said yes or no, when questioned. He always had some kind of point to make. It was one of the things she loved about him, but found exasperating at times.

She noticed that Garcia came into the bullpen with flowers. She'd come to really like this woman. She truly cared for Spencer and seemed like one of his best friends.

"They better be from Will, or someone's got some 'esplanin' to do," she quipped and Maeve laughed.

Then, again, everything changed in a heartbeat. JJ opened the card and flinched. "Zugzwang," she said.

"What?"

Maeve and Spencer said it at the same time. The word, the same word that the man who wanted to hurt Spencer and his team, had written on their pictures, was right there in stark black and white.

"He knew about Dianne." Garcia was saying.

"He knew you'd be at that phone booth. He's stalking you."

"No, he's stalking all of you," Maeve said at the same time Spencer said. "Or us, maybe he's the Replicator."

She knew that if she'd still been human, her hands would be sweaty and her mind whirling, while her heart pounded. Instead, only her mind seemed to whirl. The Replicator had known about her and Dianne. He'd taunted Spencer and had probably reveled in it when… Oh, God. She had to find a way to let them know.

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She knew from the start that this Bidwell person wasn't the Replicator. She'd seen him and this guy looked nothing like him.

"It's not him," she said as she hovered near the table in the police station. "You're being misled.

Then all hell broke loose when Bidwell killed himself right there in the interrogation room. "I told you it wasn't him," she shouted at them as they gathered. "He wouldn't kill himself, he wants to hurt you."

She glided back and forth through the middle of the table as they discussed the Replicator and finally, Garcia came up with a trace on a disposable cell phone in Philadelphia.

She continued to glide up and down the aisle of the jet while she kept a close watch on Spencer. "This doesn't make any sense. Why am I here except to keep you safe?"

When they met up with SWAT, she suddenly felt irrational anger. All of this protection for the Replicator. Why hadn't they brought in SWAT when she was captive with Dianne? They could have put someone on the roof and shot her before she had the chance to…

She floated off into the building and down the hall. No, it wasn't fair to second-guess what had happened. She hadn't been an official case for them. They'd helped Spencer because they cared for him. If she'd put aside her fears and let him help her, then it could've have been an official case with all the big guns they needed and she might still be alive.

She realized that she was hovering near a wall when the rest of the team and the SWAT cops came in behind her. She let herself glide in front of them and nearly laughed at the irony of all of it. Here she was, dead and unable to be harmed and in front of a bunch of huge men with guns. She wanted to cry.

She heard the music and increased her pace. She floated through the door while they set up to look under it with cameras.

She stopped in shock at all the photos on the walls and the corpse on a mattress in the middle of the room. "Oh god," she floated over to the dead woman and bent down. Her hands tried to touch the plastic to show this woman that someone cared, but they passed through her. She floated back and bit down on the frustration and anger that threatened to overwhelm her.

The team entered but she barely heard them. All she could do was stare around at the photos and that one word written repeatedly. A word she hated.

**_Zugzwang._**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: see my profile**_

_**A/n we won't see as much canon in future chapters, because I'm accelerating the time frame for the teams confrontation with The Replicator. Thank you all again for reviewing, following and favoriting this story. **_

The morning after Strauss told the team to step back from the Replicator case and move on, began as it always did. Maeve followed Spencer to get coffee and then on the train to work. JJ was in the bullpen when they entered.

"Hey, Spence, did you get some sleep?"

"Yes," she listened to him lie.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes…" He lied again.

"I need everyone in the conference room now," Hotch called down to them.

Maeve listened intently to the briefing, because that was all she could do. They couldn't hear her and her attempts to move objects failed unless she was highly emotional. These days she couldn't work up the energy to be angry.

"I wish there were some other way to get through to you."

She sat next to Spencer on the bench as they flew toward their next case. She watched him peruse his file. After a minute, he glanced up, but no one was looking at him. She saw him close his eyes and take in a deep breath. He whispered under his breath, something she'd heard him say ever since he'd gone back to BCC.

"One minute at a time."

She smiled and laid her hand over his right arm. "I'm here and I'm not going away until I finish what I have to do."

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She stood halfway between the man that had a knife to his own throat, and Spencer. Morgan dove into the pool and pulled the girl out of harm's way. JJ and Spencer pointed guns at Peter as Morgan started CPR. JJ tried to talk Peter down, but Spencer broke in.

Maeve froze as something in his face changed as he talked. He said, "This is the part where I'm supposed to lie to you and tell you that everything will be okay and that we can somehow help you but… The fact of the matter is, Peter I don't know if we can. There might not be any form of therapy that takes these urges away, but that doesn't mean you stop trying."

JJ said, "Spence, what are you doing?"

Maeve ignored her and kept her eyes on the man called Peter and watched his face as he listened to Spencer.

"Peter, no matter what happens, you have to keep trying. I know it's not what you want to hear, but at least it's the truth."

Again, time seemed to stop as Peter lowered the knife a bit and seemed to consider Spencer's words.

"Please," Maeve pleaded. "Just listen to him. He only wants to help you."

"I appreciated your honesty," Peter, then he raised the knife and slit his own throat.

Maeve turned away in horror, as he fell into the pool and his blood turned the water scarlet.

"Wait," she called out to Spencer as he hung his head and strode out of the pool area.

She glided behind him as he hurried out of the building and climbed into the back of one black SUV. She slipped in next to him and watched at he stared out the window. His hands clasped together so hard, his knuckles went white.

"I know what you're thinking. You're going over every syllable you said to that poor man. It's not your fault."

"Yes it is."

She flinched and passed through the side panel of the truck and back into the night. She returned to his side, but he sat with his face in his hands.

"You did what you thought was best and…"

"Spence."

Maeve whirled around when JJ climbed into the truck. "Get out of here," she spat at the blonde. "Whatever you have to say he doesn't need to hear it."

"Hey, what were you thinking in there."

He looked up at her and Maeve flinched again. There was nothing in his eyes but unshed tears of frustration and anger. "Leave me alone, JJ."

"I just want to know -"

"No, you want to lecture me. Well, I think I'll pass."

He got out of the SUV and walked back to the building. He swiped hurriedly at his eyes as the EMTs brought the girl out of the building. He watched them take her away. Morgan strode out behind them.

"Hey kid, let's go wrap this up."

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Maeve gave up trying to talk to him as he packed his bag to leave for the night. When Hotch approached him and began to question him about what he'd done in the pool area, she began to bristle.

"Leave him alone," she hissed. "Can't you see he's hurting?"

When Hotch said, "To me this is very clearly about Maeve," she shouted back at him.

"Back off! What do you know about it? Where were you when he faced Dianne alone?"

She wanted to say more, but Spencer left without speaking and she had to follow him.

"I'm going to figure out how to break away from following Spencer around, and when I do I'm going to give you a piece of my mind."

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When they returned to the apartment, Spencer put his bag, coat and scarf away. Instead, of making something to eat, as she wanted him to, he went to his keyboard. She'd only heard him play a couple of times. This time he played something that was familiar to her, that she hadn't heard for a long time, but she couldn't remember the name of the piece. It was slow and melancholy and suited his mood, but not her frame of mind.

She drifted to the bookcase and began to try to move a book. As always, it didn't work for a while, and then his copy of John Smith's Narrative began to inch back from its fellow tomes and toward the edge of the shelf.

"Just a little more."

Excitement and happiness poured into her like sand through her fingers at the beach. Then she popped away just as if someone had grabbed her and yanked her out of the path of an oncoming truck.

She blinked and found that she was back in that little room with the man called the Replicator.

"You again… Why do I come here, but I can't go anywhere else?"

The man ignored her as he worked on his computer. She hovered behind him and saw that he was writing something. It looked like a story.

_She walked through the darkness as if she owned it. Stupid Bitch, she should have known better than to walk alone in this part of town. He'd show her. She'd learn her lesson, but by the time she learned it, it would be too late. He chuckled quietly to himself and stepped around the corner to confront her. It was going to be so delicious._

"What are you doing?"

He stopped as if he heard her and she glided back in shock. He saved the file in his computer and she moved forward again. He looked over at what she saw were new photos of the team on the wall. "Tedious," he said and it was the first time she'd heard him speak. "Why write it when you can just live it?"

He laughed and if she'd still had hair on the back of her neck, it would be rising, she knew.

"Still, we have to make it authentic, or it's not real."

He stood up, stretched and she drifted around him. "I'm going to find out who you are."

Suddenly, that invisible force sucked her back into Spencer's apartment. He was still playing his keyboard, but had switched to another song. She looked at the clock and saw that thirty minutes had passed.

What was going on? Why couldn't she do that whenever she wanted to?

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The next day at work, no one said anything to Spencer about what happened. She wondered if Hotch had said something to them. She noticed that JJ watched Spencer with speculative eyes. Maeve did the only thing she could do. She stuck her tongue out at JJ and immediately felt better despite the childishness of the reaction.

Spencer picked up a file and went to the stairs. She followed him all the way to Garcia's office. She smiled when Garcia told her sweet cheeks to enter.

"Hey there, handsome, what can I do for you?"

"You're not going to try and lecture me about yesterday?"

Maeve almost applauded when Garcia said. "No, why should I? I know you were just trying to do what you thought was best. I'm just concerned about you. How are you?"

He sat down and Maeve hovered near him as always. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Are you sleeping?"

"No, he's not," Maeve, said.

"Not really. I just…"

"You just lost the love of your life." Garcia patted his knee. "It's going to get better."

"Everyone says that, but I don't know if I believe it."

Maeve swept her eyes over the desk as they talked, and then she froze. She couldn't move or speak, not even when Spencer stood up. She didn't hear him ask Garcia for help on a case or see him start for the door. All she could do was stare at a photograph on Garcia's desk and at the face of the Replicator.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

She paced back and forth, while Spencer read. How could he just sit there and read when the answer to the puzzle was right there in front of him?

_Because he doesn't know, it's right there in front of him. You're the only one that knows and you can't tell anyone._

His finger whispered down the page of one of the books he'd picked up at the library. He flipped to the next page and she started pacing again.

"You know who he is?"

She strode over and stood right in front of him. "Damn it. You have to hear me. The Replicator is right under your nose. You guys have to know who he is. I saw the picture on Garcia's desk. Please… Listen to me."

She was shouting, but it didn't matter. He flipped another page and continued to read.

She sat down on the couch next to him and thought about touching the hand that held the book he read. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the sensation of touching his skin. She reached out and let her fingers hover over his bare forearm. He'd rolled up his shirtsleeve and she could see every individual hair and the follicles that held them.

She let her hand slowly drift down and… One of her fingers touched the warmth of his skin. Surprise almost knocked her off her seat. She lifted eight inches off the sofa and hovered there for a moment.

_Don't freak out! Concentrate._

She slowly drifted down and sat for a moment. She watched him read and realized that it was very relaxing for some reason. She reached out and laid her hand on his forearm. This time he jerkedas if touched by a live wire.

"Can you feel me, baby."

"Maeve," he whispered as his head slowly turned in her direction.

"I'm here. You have to hear me, baby. You're in danger. Go to Garcia's office. He's in the picture."

She tightened her grip on his arm and her fingers passed through him. He shuddered, and then shook himself as though he'd walked through a sudden spray of frigid water on a steaming hot day.

"No," he said aloud. "You're imagining things. Ghosts do not exist."

"Oh God, save me from logical genii. I know you. You're a scientist, but you know better than to think that science and logic have all the answers. I'm here. I'm real. Please listen to me."

He put down the book and stood up. "I just need some sleep."

"No, you don't need sleep. You have to listen to me."

Then, without warning, she found herself back with the man called the Replicator.

"Damn it. I was so close."

Annoyance, more than fear, fueled her. She had nothing to be afraid of, after all. The worst had already happened. She was dead. There was nowhere to go but up. She almost laughed, and then realized that the Replicator had company in this little room.

"Thank you," he was saying to a man dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and a blue baseball cap. "You've been invaluable help to me, but I no longer need your services."

"Yeah, whatever man. Where's my money?"

The Replicator smiled and Maeve had a sudden premonition. "Hey, she yelled at the other man. "You have to get out here, he's going to -"

The Replicator lifted a silencer fitted .45 and shot the man point blank in the chest. He fell with a thud onto the wooden floor.

She screamed, in horror more than shock. The man she knew as the Replicator went to the man and crouched down beside him.

"You were just a means to an end and too stupid to realize that you're no good to me except for your talents with the camera. It is too bad that no one will miss you."

He took the man's leg and dragged him to the door. She floated along and watched as the Replicator bundled the man into some kind of plastic wrap, then tied him with rope. He opened the back of his green SUV and manhandled the body into the back. He slammed the door, got into the driver's side, and started the engine.

She looked around, and hoped that someone was around to see them, but there was another disorienting flash and she was back in the apartment with Spencer.

"Damn," she nearly shouted, and then she went to the couch and sat hovering a few inches above the fabric. Since when did getting angry, accomplish anything.

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Spence was eating a sandwich when she returned from her bizarre visit to the Replicator. He seemed to have forgotten the contact between them, or more likely, he was suppressing it.

Then, she took a closer look and saw that he had "The Narrative of John Smith," on the table and was staring at what she'd written from Thomas Merton.

"Yes… I really am here. This isn't mental illness creeping up on you. Please listen to me. Another man is dead. I know he was working with the Replicator. You have to find out who he is."

She stood in the middle of the table and gazed directly down at his beautiful eyes. He stared up at her as if he could see her.

"Why aren't I allowed to tell you about the danger you face. Who set up these asinine rules?" She shouted up at the ceiling, but as usual, no one bothered to answer her demands.

Spencer blinked when she looked at him again and, dropped his gaze to the book. He touched her writing with a trembling finger. "I still love you."

"I know. I love you too."

She reached for his face, but he abruptly stood up and took the book back to its shelf. He placed it there with such loving gentleness that pain rose in her throat.

"I have to stop thinking about you all the time," she heard him say. "You're gone and the sooner I accept that and move on the better."

"No. You can't move on, not now. Not before I show you, the one that wants to hurt you and your friends. Please, Spencer… Don't shut me out."

He left her there hovering and staring at his bookcase. Hours passed before she joined him in his room and spent the rest of the night watching him sleep.

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She jerked when his phone beeped at just before six in the morning. Despite her frustration at her inability to make him aware of her presence, she smiled when he yawned and rubbed at his eyes like a small child.

"Yeah," he said into the phone.

She watched his eyes widen and clear to full awareness, "Where?"

He threw off the covers and strode to the chair where his ratty old robe lay and pulled it on. "Okay, Garcia, I'm on my way."

She floated in the middle of his room as he left for the bathroom. Something was going on that was very important. He never got calls this early on a weekday unless it was urgent. She steeled herself for another round of blood, and the tears of the ones left behind.

He didn't stop for food, which had her shaking her head, although he took his vitamins with the coffee he always stopped for, even when it was urgent that he get to the office. "You'd do better with some protein," she nagged.

"What are you going to do next?" She scolded herself irritably, "Tell the man that can't hear you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?"

He grabbed his bag and rushed out the door and she followed just like always, only with a smile on her face.

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"I don't understand why we're just sitting here," Morgan said. "There has to be something we can do."

"We're closed out of it," Hotch said.

"Yes…" SC Strauss said as she strode into the room wearing her usual monochromatic navy blue suit with a pale blue blouse underneath the buttoned coat. There wasn't a hair out of place, but she seemed harried to Maeve.

"We can't just leave him to rot."

"You're not going to leave him to rot," SC Strauss said to Garcia. "I pulled a few strings and Hotch will observe the interview."

"But, ma'am…"

"What do you mean observe?"

"This is crazy."

"Ma'am I'm sure if I -"

She held up her hands as the shouts flew around the room. "That's enough… I need the rest of you to do your jobs. You have a dead body and more questions than answers. Find me some, so we can get him back."

"Yes, ma'am," they all said with varying degrees of respect, irritation and resignation.

"I still have some pull with the powers that be. I'll do everything I can to help him."

She strode back out of the room and Morgan snorted with derision. "I'll just bet she will."

"Morgan," Hotch snapped. "She's right. I want all of you on this. The DC metro police aren't happy we've found around them. They'll do everything they can to block us, but we're not going to give up until we free him."

"I'm going to call Will," JJ said as she rose from her chair.

"What good will that do?" Alex asked.

"He's in homicide. Maybe he can call in a few favors."

Alex shrugged. "Okay, if you think it'll help, I'm all for it."

Hotch grabbed his spring weight overcoat. "I'll call you when I have anything to report."

"This has to be the Replicator," Morgan said to him.

"We don't know that for sure. Work the profile! I don't want any bias to the Replicator on this until we're sure."

He hurried out of the room and Alex said. "You heard the man. Let's get to work."


	9. Chapter 9

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Maeve paced back and forth through the conference table as the team feverishly worked this new case. It was quiet, except for the soft snick of paper on paper, as Reid looked over crime scene photos and Alex read a manuscript that had been found with the body.

"This doesn't make sense," Morgan said as he tossed his tablet on the table.

Spencer flinched a little at the thump, but he kept his eyes on the photographs.

"None of this makes any sense," JJ retorted. "Rossi's been arrested by the locals just because they found a manuscript with his name on it."

"It's clearly the work of the Replicator," Morgan said. "Why escalate to this degree. He has to know we figure that is wasn't Rossi."

"Not fast enough to stop the locals from taking him into custody," Spencer said.

"He's playing with you," Maeve said to them. "I've seen him. He wants all of you to suffer. You know him. You have to talk about the fact that you know him, or he'll…"

She couldn't bring herself to think the words, let alone voice them aloud to a group of people that didn't hear her. She floated up and sideways until she stood behind Spencer and looked down at his copy of the manuscript. If she could only read it. She couldn't get past the first page, though, not without help.

"He's just taunting us," JJ said. "He wants us to know that he has the control. If he can make the local LEO's jump to the conclusion that Rossi killed this woman, then we're screwed."

"We're not screwed," Alex said. "This manuscript wasn't written by Rossi."

"We know that," Morgan growled impatiently. "Tell me something we don't know, Blake."

Alex flicked her eyes up to him. "I mean that I can prove he didn't write this. Every writer has a style. I've read several of Rossi's books and I can tell you this isn't his style. It's not even close."

"Blake's right," Spencer said as he picked up the manuscript and began to peruse it again, even though he'd already memorized it. "These are two totally different people."

"Well, that's a relief," Morgan said a bit sarcastically. "We have a genius and an expert in linguistics on our side. The question is will the local PD believe us?"

"They will if I have anything to say about it."

JJ looked up to see Will standing in the doorway with Anderson. "What are you doing here, babe?"

She rushed over and hugged him close.

"The front gate called up. I thought it best just to bring him up instead of interrupting you," Anderson said.

"Thank you."

He smiled at JJ and left the profilers to their case. Will took a chair between Alex and JJ. "Did I hear ya'll say that you can prove Dave didn't kill this woman?"

"We have proof he didn't write the story," Spencer said. "I don't know if that clears him or not in the eyes of your friends."

"Well, that's why I'm here. I checked up on his alibi personally. He was at a Charity function hosted by Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss."

"You talked to Emily's mother?"

"Yes. She remembered Dave because he was there with Samantha Brooks."

"_The_ Samantha Brooks," Morgan whistled. "Wow… he sure does get around."

"You impress too easily, sugar," Garcia said. "I've heard she's a real man eater."

"A gorgeous man eater worth about 65 million, or so I've heard."

"65.9 million," Spencer said absently."

Maeve laughed at the scowl on Morgan's face. "Don't say it if it's not exact," Maeve said to Morgan and laughed again.

"I don't care if she's worth 65.9 billion," JJ said. "Why didn't you just call us?"

"Because I was in the neighborhood and I want The Replicator caught. I want my wife back."

JJ clutched at his hand. "I'm sorry, Will."

He sighed, long and deep. "Let's just get this bastard."

"Spencer," Alex said.

He was staring at one of the crime scene photos as if it might get up off the table and walk away.

"What?"

"You look like you're a million miles away."

"Yeah, kid," Morgan, said as they all got up from the table and began to collect coats, tablets and phones. "What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing. It was just thinking about Rossi's alibi."

"Are you sure?"

Spencer nodded. Maeve floated next to him as they hurried out of the conference room to the elevators. "What is it? What's bothering you?"

She hadn't seen that look on his face since the early days after her death. "Baby, please, tell them what you're thinking."

Reid reached the elevator first. He pushed the button to call the car and stood with his back to the rest of the team. He tried to put the idea out of his head, but it wouldn't go away. It couldn't be right. It was the result of too much stress, too little sleep and the persistent feeling that somehow Maeve was still with him.

He had to shake it off and concentrate on the case. The others needed him and now wasn't the time for crazy ideas and speculation. If only he didn't have an eidetic memory, then maybe he wouldn't be thinking that -

"Hey, Reid, wake up. The elevator's here."

He followed Alex onto the car. She raised her eyebrows at him, but he shook his head. He had to think about it. There had to be a reason for the similarity in writing style. It couldn't be what he thought it was or else everything he valued would be gone in the blink of an eye.

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"Well," Rossi said as they shut the door to the SUV that would take them to back to Dave's home. "That was fun. I'll have to mark that off my bucket list."

"Not funny, man."

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Morgan. I'm trying to resist the urge to call my lawyers and instruct them to sue the department for false arrest."

"It's a good thing we have JJ and she has Will."

"Yeah, having his weight on my side is a good thing."

"I'm just glad he ran down your alibi so fast."

Rossi glanced over at Hotch and smirked. "I'll never whine about another black tie charity affair again. In fact, I think I'll arrange it so I have one at least once a week."

"You did a great job with IAB."

Rossi waved Hotch's praise away. "It isn't hard to get around them. I knew you'd find something to help me, so I just talked in circles for four hours."

"I'm just sorry you had to go through at that."

Rossi waved his hand again. "The local's were just doing their job. You know as well as I do, that we would've done the same thing. I'm just glad we have someone like Alex on the team. She's the one that figured out the writing style wasn't mine."

Maeve looked over at Spencer, who sat in the back of the truck with his head on one hand. His eyes were closed and his swayed as though he slept. She reached out and touched his arm. Again, she was able to grasp him as though she were real instead of a ghost. He didn't react to her touch, so she held on to him until they reached a home that was more a mansion than a single-family dwelling.

They left Rossi there and Hotch drove Morgan and Spencer back to Quantico to pick up their things. Spencer snapped awake when they pulled into the garage. "Hey, kid, you want a ride home?" You can pick up your car tomorrow."

"Yeah… That'd be great."

She climbed into Morgan's truck with Spencer and he fell asleep as soon as they pulled back out of the parking lot. Morgan didn't try to speak to Spencer until they reached the apartment complex. He stayed there until they found their way inside. Spencer didn't bother to take his clothes off; he just dropped onto the couch and fell into a deep sleep. Three hours later, he woke screaming.

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The man sat in front of his computer and watched the scene in the alleyway from nearly twenty-four hours ago. The quality of the tiny camera he'd installed there to tape the discovery of her body was incredible. The fact that they hadn't found it wasn't incredible. The local crime scene people were incompetent. He didn't need to be as careful with her body as he had been, but some habits were hard to break.

The look on SSA Rossi's face when they'd put the cuffs on him after calling him to the scene was priceless. That would show him that he couldn't just waltz in and take over and not expect there would be consequences.

He banged his hand on the table, and gritted his teeth. All of them had to pay. It was their fault that he was a monster. They'd made him this way and they'd all pay for it. When he was finished with them, they'd all wish they'd never been born.

He got up from his station and went to his makeshift film-developing table. He could have had his "assistant" take the pictures with a digital camera, but this was much more fun. He began to develop this last series of photographs, and they pleased him very much. Even with the knowledge that someone was watching them, they hadn't spotted his partner.

When the first frame on the roll began to appear as the developing chemicals did their work, he grinned. They were all so stupid. They thought that Rossi was the one they had to protect.

He tacked up the still wet photograph and stood back with his arms crossed over his chest to inspect his true target. Oh, the others would pay, but the first - well that was always the sweetest.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

She blinked and stood over Spencer as he twisted and writhed in his sheets. "No… Don't hurt her. Please, I'll do anything you want. No, you can't… please!

His eyes popped open and sweat poured down his temples. He threw off his blanket and sat up in the darkness, lit only by the glow of streetlights. A car's headlights washed into the room, and briefly illuminated his face. His eyes, huge and bright, were full of tears. Then the car was gone and it was deadly quiet.

He lay back on his pillow as Maeve glided through him and lay hovering just above the blanket to his right. She laid one hand over his chest, just above where his frantic heart beat like a frightened hummingbird. He put a hand over his face and whispered. "Can't be right."

"What is it, baby?"

"Can't be right. He wouldn't do this."

"I'm so sorry."

"Why? There has to be an explanation."

He suddenly sat up and threw off his covers. They passed through Maeve as she stood up and floated behind Spencer into the living room. He went to his chessboard and stared down at it with only the light of the street lamps playing over the surface. He picked up the black king and ran his fingers over its smooth shape, his fingers feeling each curve until he finally reached the crowning cross.

She watched his face and eyes. He was thinking hard, just as she'd come to recognize when something wasn't going right on a case.

After a few minutes, he seemed to come to some decision because he flipped on the lights and squinted at the clock on the wall. It read a little after one in the morning. He sighed, went to the kitchen and got a glass of water.

She followed him to bed and sat with her back to the headboard. At least an hour passed before he was able to sleep again.

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The next morning he had coffee at a little café down the street instead of drinking his first cup in the apartment. He sat at a table near the back and stared out the window. He rebuffed the waitress when she tried to get him to order breakfast. Maeve giggled when the woman left in a bit of a huff. "Careful, Spencer, you're annoying your waitress. She might "forget" you're here and you'll be stuck with one cup of coffee for the duration."

He finally lit up when Alex entered the café and joined him. "What's so important we had to meet at this unholy hour of the morning," she asked irritably.

"I'm sorry, but I wanted to talk to you and ask a favor before we got to work."

Alex shrugged out of her dark blue jacket and pushed back her hair. The waitress returned and asked Alex if she wanted anything. Alex shook her head, "I'll just have coffee thanks."

The waitress stared at both of them as they ignored her, and then left with a flounce. Maeve shook her head and grinned at them. "You're not scoring any points with her."

"I'm sorry, but I needed to talk to you before we see everyone."

"Okay, what do you know that you don't want the team to know? You've been acting strange, ever since Rossi was arrested yesterday."

Maeve crossed her fingers that Alex would listen and not judge because this could be it. This could be the way to find the Replicator so she could move on.

_You want to move on._

She froze in shock, but before she could admit her feelings of restlessness, Spencer began to speak in a low, but nervous voice.

"I recognized the writing style of the Replicator, I think."

"You think? I thought there were only absolutes with you."

He sat back when the waitress returned and warmed their coffees. She gave them both inquiring looks but they ignored her again.

"That's not true," he squeaked, and Maeve smiled. "I have moments of doubt, just like everyone. It'd be pretty arrogant to say otherwise."

"Alright, I'm sorry I made the observation. Now, what is it you want me to do?"

"I want to give you an article written someone I know. I'm not going to tell you who it is, just yet. I want you look at it objectively."

Alex nodded and took a sip of her coffee. "Agreed, where's the article?"

Spencer opened his messenger bag and withdrew the pages he removed from an old magazine he'd kept. He handed them to her. "We have a little time. Could you read it here, now?"

She stared at him for a moment then picked up the pages and began to read.

Maeve decided to study Spencer, rather than look at Alex Blake. She found that she wanted everyone to read at the same pace as Spencer because there was no waiting when he read something.

Finally, Alex set aside the pages and took another sip of her cooling coffee. "Yes, I'd have to say they're the same person."

Spencer gripped his coffee cup so tightly, Maeve was afraid he might crush it. His knuckles went white and he swallowed hard.

"What's wrong?" Alex demanded. "Who is the Replicator, Reid?"

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Maeve walked through the elevator doors behind Spencer and Alex as they exited onto the sixth floor at Quantico. "There has to be some kind of explanation," Spencer said. "I can't believe that -"

Alex jabbed him in the side as Hotch met them. "Everyone's in the conference room. What's so urgent you had me gather everyone together this early?"

"Hotch, please trust me when I say we don't want to repeat this," Spencer said.

Hotch's eyebrows went up. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

"No sir… but it pertains to the Replicator case."

Hotch didn't reply, but walked away from them toward the conference room. Reid hurried after him with Alex bringing up the rear and Maeve gliding after them. "Thank you for believing in him," she said to Alex. "He's very upset by all of this.

Alex shut the door to the conference room and faced the rest of the team. Spencer nodded to her, she looked at Hotch he nodded too, and she began to speak.

"Reid and I believe we have a significant lead on the identity of the Replicator."

The rest of the team gave each other inquiring looks, but they didn't interrupt Alex. "Reid noticed similarity between the writing style of the story left with our latest victim, and someone he knows."

"That can't be right," JJ said. "Spence, are you sure?"

"He's sure and so am I. We met this morning and he showed me an article written by this person and I'm convinced the style is the same."

"Who is it?"

Alex looked at Hotch rather than at Garcia who'd asked the question. Then she glanced over at Reid. He nodded again, but his hands were laced together and his face was so pale, she thought he might be sick.

"We believe its Jason Gideon."

"What?"

"That's not possible."

"Reid, you're not thinking straight, man."

"There has to be another explanation."

"Enough," Hotch shouted them down. "We need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Morgan interrupted. "No offense, Alex, but you can't expect us to believe that the Replicator is Gideon. That's just crazy."

"The writing style doesn't lie," Alex said. "Reid gave me the piece to read without telling me who wrote it. I concluded that it's the same person. Writing styles are like finger prints, every one is unique."

"You didn't work with him," Garcia said. Tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes. "You don't know him."

"Do any of you?"

"Please stop it," Reid said quietly. "I didn't bring you all in here so we could fight."

"How did you expect us to react, Spence?"

"I expected you to hear me out," he retorted.

"Yeah, he deserves that from you," Maeve said as she let one hand hover over his shoulder.

"Then, by all means, tell us," Rossi said.

"I don't believe that he is the Replicator," Reid said in the same quiet tone. "I believe that he's been taken by the man that is the Replicator and forced to write the story. I don't even know that he's still alive. What use does the Replicator have for him now that the story is done and we have our new body?"

The others seemed to calm down except for Morgan who'd got up to pace the room like a jungle cat. "Baby girl," he went to Garcia and squeezed her shoulders. "Do you know if he's in town?"

"Derek, I stopped trying to keep track of him years ago. He obviously didn't want contact with us. I have no idea where he is."

"We have to find him," JJ said. "It's the only way to figure out what's going on."

"I agree," Hotch said. "We need to find him and talk to him. If he's been taken by the Replicator, then it's even more urgent we ID him, if he -"

"Don't say it," Morgan said through clenched teeth."

"I have to say it and you know it.

Morgan sat down and rubbed a hand over his head. "Are we seriously considering that Jason Gideon has suffered some kind of psychotic break and now he's a killer?"

"We have to consider all the possibilities. Sarah's death was devastating for him. It could be the stressor."

"This is insane," JJ said. "I feel like I've stepped into an episode of "The Twilight Zone." What's next?"

"Garcia, I want you to do whatever it takes to find Gideon."

"But sir," she said shakily. "I tried to find him for months after he left us. He must know me too well, because he completely dropped off the grid."

"There has to be something, find it."

She nodded slowly as tears coursed down her cheeks. "I can't believe this."

"I know," Morgan soothed as he glared at Reid and Blake as though they were the Replicator.

"All of you," Hotch demanded, "Put your personal feelings aside and get to work. As far as I'm concerned, Jason is innocent until proven guilty. Now, if you'll all excuse me I have to go talk to Strauss."

"You can't," Morgan leapt to his feet. "She'll yank us off this."

"No, she won't," Hotch said. "She's smart enough to know that we're the best ones for the job. No one knows Gideon better than we do."

Reid jumped up and followed Hotch out of the office over the objections of the rest of the team. "I'm sorry, Hotch. I didn't know what else to do."

Hotch turned back and gave Reid a weary look. "It's not your fault, Reid. You could hardly hold it back from us. Now, go and do your job, while I go do mine. I just hope you and Blake are wrong."


	11. Chapter 11

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Maeve stood near the window in the conference room while the team speculated about Jason Gideon.

"Come on guys," Alex was saying. "What do we know about him?"

"More than you did," Morgan said irritably. "You never worked with him."

"True, but I knew who he was and his reputation. He's intelligent, detail oriented, compassionate and was extremely dedicated to the job, so much so that it cost him his marriage and his son."

"All good reasons why he couldn't be the Replicator."

Rossi stood up and paced to the window next to Maeve. "We're getting bogged down in sentiment," he began.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Morgan hissed. "Jason Gideon would no more kill anyone than -'

"How do you know?"

"Because I know him."

Rossi marched back to the table. "You all think you know him, but really, how well do you know anyone? How well do you think you know me, or Reid, or Hotch?"

Morgan left his chair and turned to look out over the bullpen. "I know you all well enough to know that you're not going out tomorrow and become serial killers."

"Really, because I don't know that for sure about myself," Rossi said seriously. "You know as well as I do that anyone, given the right circumstances and the right pressure, will kill. Look at those three girls in North Mammon a few years ago."

"You weren't there," Morgan began.

"I didn't have to be there. I've read the case files you wrote. I know what they went through and what drove one of them to kill. In normal circumstances, they'd never turn on friend like that, but that wasn't normal circumstances."

"You're comparing apples to oranges," JJ began. "This isn't the same thing. Gideon wasn't kidnapped and forced to choose who lived and who-"

"No, but I've been there," Reid interjected quietly. "I know exactly what Rossi is talking about. When you believe there's no other way out, you will kill or have someone else killed to save your life or someone else. Don't talk about something you don't know."

"Hey, back off pretty boy, JJ didn't mean -"

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't shout at me."

"Stop it!"

They all turned to face Alex when she and Maeve shouted the same thing at the same time.

"This is what the Replicator wants. Whether or not Jason Gideon is the Replicator doesn't matter because the result is the same. This team is fracturing. Is that what you want? Do you want him to drive a wedge between us?"

No one looked each other in the eyes. They all found something else to do with their hands. The silence was deafening for long seconds that stretched out like years to Maeve.

"Talk to each other," she said as she strode through JJ and into the middle of the conference room table. "Don't fight, please. You have to find him."

"I'm sorry," Reid said looking over at JJ.

"Why are you apologizing? You're not the one that's out there killing people and threatening us.

"Well, no, but still I was the one that realized the writing style matched."

"It's okay, Spence. I'm not angry with you or anyone here. I'm angry because we can't get ahead of him, whoever he is. He's been calling the shots from day one."

"Maybe not anymore," Garcia said from the doorway.

She smiled and it wasn't a smile that engendered trust, it was more like the smile of some predator waiting to pounce. Maeve didn't like it.

"What did you find?" Morgan was at her side in an instant. "What's going on, baby girl?"

"I activated an old program I had linked to Gideon's credit cards. I stopped monitoring them when he quit using them five years ago. Now, there's a hit on one of them. It's a charge for a motel near the freeway."

"It's a trap," Maeve said at the same time as Spencer and Rossi."

"I know," Hotch said as he strode back into room with Strauss, on his heels. "We have no choice but to follow up on it."

"I want this over today, one way or another," Strauss said. "Do whatever you have to do to bring him down, regardless of who he is."

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Maeve watched the SWAT team go in first. She hovered near Spencer, who held his revolver at his side. Sunlight played over his face but she couldn't see his eyes for the sunglasses he wore.

Alex followed them up the steps to the second floor. The stairs wound up and around the outside of the motel and onto a long walkway that ran its length. The rooms had front facing windows and room sixteen was in the middle of the building so Maeve knew that if the Replicator were there, he'd see them coming, but there was nothing for it. Alex, JJ, and Rossi brought up the rear, while Hotch and Morgan went right behind the SWAT team.

A maid came out of one of the rooms where a cart blocked the walkway. She let out a terrified screech, dropped a pile of white towels on the ground and jerked back into the room as though yanked back by a tether hooked to the back of her grey dress.

The lead cop signaled to the rest of them with silent hand gestures and hit the door so hard it popped off its hinges.

Maeve flinched at the shouts of FBI and police, but it was all over too soon. The SWAT team exited first and they didn't look happy. She floated through one of the hulking cops and stopped still in the doorway as the rest of the team filtered into the room. They walked right through her, but she didn't notice.

There on the puke green carpet laid a man in a baseball cap. She knew this man. It was the man that the Replicator killed. It was his partner.

"What the?" Rossi stepped over him and crouched next to Reid and Morgan.

"It looks like the man in reflection Garcia found in one of the stalking photos."

"It can't be right," Spencer said as he surveyed the rest of the room. "Why lead us here with Gideon's credit card.

"He's been shot at point blank range. It's not suicide from the angle of the wound," Hotch said.

"So, what do we do from here?"

"Guys," Spencer said with dread as Maeve floated through Rossi and went to his side. "I found something."

They crowded around and stared down and a small travel sized chess set sitting on the end table.

Spencer looked over at Blake, and Maeve flinched a little. There was profound sadness and a rage in them that filled her with a terrible dread.

"It is Gideon."

"Reid," JJ began but he stopped her with a look.

"This chess set," he began to speak, but his voice shook so hard they could barely understand him. "JJ, d-do you r-remember when I asked you t-to the f-football g-game."

JJ put a hand on his arm, but instead of flinching away, he laid his hand over hers and squeezed it. Maeve fisted her hands to her sides and tried to swallow down the jealous rage that threatened to overwhelm her. They could touch, and she was forever doomed to the outside. Oh God, how she wanted it to end.

"Yes," JJ was saying.

"This is configured;" he began his voice calming a bit, "In exactly the same way is was that day on the jet."

"Why is that significant?"

Reid looked back at Rossi, who was studying the board intently.

"Because that was the first time I beat him. He thought he had me and then I checkmated him. It was right before I asked you," he directed to JJ, "to the Redskins game. I was so excited that I forgot to let him win."

The rest of the team went deadly silent. "You let him win?" Morgan said in surprise.

"He was the best mind I ever went up against, but I am a genius."

"Why know, pretty boy."

Reid went a little pink in the cheeks and let go of JJ's hand. "You know what I mean guys," he said as they all stared at him. "I started playing chess with Gideon about a year after I got the job with the BAU. Initially, he did beat me, but I realized after a few games, that I could win. I started passing up obvious avenues of advancement and strategy so that he'd win."

"Why?"

Reid looked back at JJ and sighed.

"Because you were afraid that he'd stop playing."

Reid nodded at Hotch's comment. "I thought if he won that he'd play with me and -"

"He was like a father to you," Rossi said. "You wanted to keep him interested."

"I'm surprised he didn't call you on it."

"I think this is his way of calling me on it," Reid said to Blake. "He's telling me that it's time to end this."


	12. Chapter 12

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Garcia paced in her office. She glanced at her phone with every circuit of the room, but it didn't ring. Perhaps she should call Morgan, just to make sure everyone was all right. No, she couldn't interrupt him in the middle of a takedown. She'd get him hurt. She paused behind her chair and rang her hands.

"Stop it," she said forcefully. "You actually rang your hands like some Emily Bronte heroine. You are Penelope Garcia, goddess of the information superhighway. You will not panic."

She nodded and sat down to wait for her babies to come home, or for Morgan to call her. She didn't have to wait long. Her phone beeped in her ear and she sighed with relief.

"Baby-girl," he said wearily and she closed her eyes.

"You didn't get him."

"No, all we found was a dead body. It looks like Gideon had a partner and he killed him."

"Derek, are you sure it's Gideon, because I can't deal with it if it is?"

"I wish I could tell you no, but it looks like it is Gideon. He left a clue for Reid, a chess set in the motel room. We need you to find him. Go through everything."

"But, Morgan, I told you I -"

"Come on, sweetness, you're my miracle worker. If anyone can find him, you can."

She huffed out a breath. "Your confidence in me is overwhelming, sugar, but this time -"

"This time, you're going to pull of the greatest miracle of your career."

"I'll do the best that I can."

"That's all we can ask."

She pulled off her headset and put her hands on her keyboard. For a very long moment, they seemed to have forgotten how to type because they didn't move.

"Where do I start," she said, and flexed her fingers. "How do I find someone that's been untraceable for years? Come on, Penelope, think. Think outside the box. If you were Gideon, where would you hide?"

Right in plain sight. Her fingers began to rush over the keyboard. She smiled when something appeared on her screen and then her smile faded away. This couldn't be right. Gideon wouldn't do something like this. There had to be another explanation.

Her personal cell phone rang and she jerked in surprise. No one called her at work except the team and they always called the office line. She looked at the caller ID and saw that is was blocked.

"H-hello," she stuttered.

"Garcia?"

"Yeah, who is this?"

She said it more sharply than she intended but her heart was racing so fast she couldn't breathe.

"It's Jason, Jason Gideon."

Surprise silenced her tongue for so long, he said. "Are you there?"

"Uh, yes sir. I was just surprised. It's been so long."

"I'm sorry to call you on your private line, but I couldn't risk a trace. I wanted to see you and explain what's going on."

She began to feel lightheaded. If only one of the team were here to help her. How could she doubt the team? Morgan said Gideon was the Replicator. Reid and Blake were sure, too.

"Penelope," he said. "I'm sure you're very frightened right now."

She remembered his calm voice and the way he talked to un-subs in the interrogation room. He sounded perfectly normal to her, but then she wasn't a profiler like the rest of the team.

"Yes, sir," she said and her hands trembled. "They said you are - um I -"

"The team believes I am this Replicator. I can assure that I am not. He's framing me for these murders. I need your help, Garcia."

"I don't know, sir. Why don't you call Hotch and ask him for help?"

"Because if I come in they'll arrest me and I'll never get the chance to tell my side of the story. I need you to hear me out. You're not a profiler, so I know you'll look at the situation with objective eyes."

She swallowed hard. "I don't think that's a good idea. I can't just -

"Please just hear me out. Will you meet me at the museum, just like you did when we were after Frank Breitkopf? You believed in me then, I need you to believe in me now. I need a miracle."

Something deep inside told her not to go, to call the team and let them handle it, but she ignored that voice and said. ''Yes, I'll meet you. What time?"

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Reid was the first one to get off the elevator when they finally returned from the motel. He headed straight up to Garcia's office with Morgan in tow. "I'm sure she's working as fast as she can," Reid said over his shoulder.

Maeve floated next to him as he knocked lightly on her door. Garcia didn't answer and something flashed through Maeve like a lightning bolt. Something was very wrong.

"Baby-girl," Morgan said and tapped on the door.

"Maybe she's in the ladies' room."

Morgan opened the door and they stared at an empty office. "She's always here when we need information urgently," Reid said in a tight voice.

He noticed that her computers were turned off, which was so unusual he nearly did a double take. "She's logged off."

"What?"

"I'm going to call security."

Reid picked up her phone and hit a speed dial on the keypad. His face went white after a short conversation with security.

"Mike downstairs said she left about an hour ago."

"She wouldn't just leave in the middle of an investigation. She knows how important this is," Morgan raged.

"Nevertheless, she's gone," Reid, said.

Maeve put her hand on his arm. "He has her. You have to find her."

Spencer hurried out of the room and followed Morgan to Hotch's office. "We've got a major problem."

"Yeah," Rossi said. "We have an ex-profiler playing god with our lives. Where have you been?"

Morgan glared at him in such a way, he put Hotch to shame. "Garcia's gone."

"What do you mean, she's gone?"

Reid turned to Hotch. "I mean she's gone. Security said she left about an hour ago. Why would she pick up and leave in the middle of this?"

"She was very upset by our accusations against Gideon. When I talked to her, she told me she couldn't handle it. I had to talk her into finding him for us. She wasn't happy at all."

"None of us are happy," Hotch, pointed out. "He was my friend too, but all roads are leading back to him."

"What are we going to do now?"

Hotch directed his answer to Morgan. "Find Lynch and get him down here. We need him to take Garcia's place for now. Rossi, you and I are going to her apartment."

"Hotch, let me go. I can talk to her."

"No, Morgan, I need you, JJ, Blake and Reid to go over everything again. Get Lynch working on Garcia's computer. He found encrypted files before, and we need to know if there's anything else we need to worry about."

"You're talking like she's done something wrong."

"Morgan, we don't know if we're going to find her at home or not. We can't let her disappearance distract us and we can't baby her right now. There's too much at stake. You know he's got her in his sights, just like the rest of us.

Morgan balled up a fist and Maeve flinched. She glided over to him. "You know her. She wouldn't run away. This Replicator person has her. You have to find him."

Morgan rubbed a hand over his baldhead and left office without another word. Maeve started to follow Reid out the door when Hotch called him back.

"Reid, you said he wants to end this. What did you mean about that?"

"I wish I knew, Hotch. He's reminding me of all the games I let him win. The only reason I can think of why he'd leave a message like that is that he's done with the games and wants a confrontation."

"Are you sure," Rossi asked.

"What else can I think? He's the one that taught me what Zugzwang means.

Spencer sat wearily in one of Hotch's office chairs. "It was about three months after I signed on with the Bureau. He asked me for a game in his office. We'd just finished a tough case. Do you remember the man we were chasing in Butte, Hotch? He was the one that killed four women by imitating the Boston Strangler."

Hotch nodded. "We spent three weeks there with a twenty four hour task force. We never caught him, but the murders stopped."

"Gideon said that sometimes you have to play till the bitter end even if you know you're going to lose."

"Is he saying that he's going to win, or he's playing to the bitter end," Rossi asked.

Reid shook his head. "No, he's not afraid of losing. He thinks he's in control."

"I'd say he's right," Rossi said. "Let's go find our computer tech," he continued and gestured to Hotch.

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"Sir, please, you don't have to do this."

Gideon jerked on the rope binding Garcia's hands behind her back. She screamed and he smiled. "It's so gratifying to know that human nature never changes."

"I don't understand," Garcia, gasped out. "You told me -"

"I told you that I was set up," Gideon said.

She flinched because he stood in front of her, but the man she once knew, wasn't inside his eyes anymore. They were blank and soulless.

"I used oldest trick in the book. I played the sympathy card and you fell for it. I knew you would. You're the weak link in the BAU chain, after all. I always knew you'd be their undoing. You, with your color, and your optimism that grates on the nerves.

He reached out and wiped away one of the tears tracking down her face as she sobbed. "I know it's heartbreaking when you realize that you're a fool. Don't worry, Penny. It'll all be over soon."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

"How do you want to go in?"

Hotch glanced over at Rossi as they climbed the stairs to Garcia's apartment.

"She's not answering her cell phone, so we go in with Morgan's key."

He reached in and withdrew the key from his jacket pocket. "I hope she's sick, Rossi. I hope she just forgot to call one of us to say she needed the time off. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"So do I."

Rossi took position to the right of Hotch, as the Unit Chief unlocked the door without knocking. They went in fast, but the thirty seconds it took to clear the apartment showed them that Garcia wasn't home.

"Hotch," Rossi called out from her kitchen. "Take a look at this."

A cell phone lay on the counter top. It looked like a cheap burner phone to Hotch, but he knew for sure that it wasn't Garcia's phone.

It began to ring, the tone strident in the empty apartment. Hotch picked it up and tapped the send button.

"Agent Hotchner," he said briskly.

"You still sound so official, Aaron."

"Jason," Hotch gestured to Rossi, who pulled out his phone and dialed a number. "How are you? It's been a long time."

He heard a long sigh at the other end of the phone. "I really don't have time for the usual pleasantries."

"Where's Garcia?"

He glanced over at Rossi who shook his head. Rossi moved off and dialed another number.

"It's so good to know I can count on your predictability," Gideon said. "I knew it'd be you that'd come looking for Garcia. I am a little disappointed, however, that you haven't found me. I gave you plenty of clues to go by. I'm especially disappointed in Spencer. I guess I can only blame myself, as I was the one that brought him into the Bureau. I should've known he was too young and weak to handle the job."

"I'm not interested in this, Jason. Where's Garcia?"

"Oh, she's fine, for now."

Rossi returned to Hotch's side of the room. He shook his head again and gestured to the phone.

"Jason, there's still time for you to make this right. We can help you, but -"

"Spare me, Aaron," Gideon said. "I know all the tricks. How do you think I've been able to play with you for so long? If you want Garcia to stay healthy, you'll do exactly as I say."

"What do you want?"

"I want Spencer."

"No," Hotch said.

"You're in no position to demand, Aaron," Gideon said in the same calm tone that never wavered. "I'll call back in three hours. You better have Spencer there, or something very nasty will happen to Penelope."

The phone line went dead. Hotch dropped it into his pocket. "He wants Reid."

"I gathered that," Rossi said. He clapped Hotch on the back. "Lynch found something on Garcia's computer that you're not going to like."

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Barely thirty minutes had passed when they all gathered in the conference room. Maeve stood near Spencer and watched Kevin Lynch. She'd heard Penelope mention his name, but she'd never seen him. He reminded her of one of her cousins living on the west coast.

"Um," he began. "I found a certain program running on Penelope's computer. As you know, she was looking for Jason Gideon. It appears that she decided to look for properties in the DC area that he might use for a hideout."

"What did she find?"

Lynch flinched at Hotch's glower and tapped a few keys on his laptop. "Um, the search came up with a match, but I don't think you're going to like it, sir."

"Lynch, stop beating around the bush and tell us," Morgan growled.

"Does Agent Gideon have a cabin?"

Everyone stared at Reid. "Well, yes, but he left me the deed and the keys years ago."

"What is it?"

Reid flicked his eyes over to Rossi. "I sold it about six months after he left. I couldn't -"

He looked down at the file folders scattered over the tables.

"It's okay," Maeve said and let her hand pass through his hair like a mother stroking her child.

"I couldn't go back there after he left me that note. I sold it and I haven't thought about it since then."

"I traced back the purchase," Kevin was saying to Reid. "You sold it to Chaim Goldsmith. He's single, a hunting aficionado and he was reported missing four years ago. His family didn't want the cabin and last year they sold it. The name on the deed is a corporation called Zugzwang International. It doesn't exist except on paper. It took a few minutes and some phenomenal hacking, but I was able to trace the CEO to Jason Gideon.

Morgan stood up. "What are we waiting for? He's got Penelope."

"Morgan, sit down."

"Hotch, we have to -"

"I said sit down," Hotch said and Maeve stepped back from the black anger in his eyes.

Morgan sat down, but he didn't look at Hotch. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered down at the table.

"As you know, Rossi and I found a burner cell in Garcia's apartment. Jason called us. He has Garcia and he wants to talk to Reid."

"No!"

"Morgan, I can handle myself."

"You can't let Spence go up there alone."

"Enough," Hotch almost shouted. "I'm not sending Reid up there alone, no matter what Jason Gideon wants. He's been one step ahead of us for months so we're going to get ahead of him."

"How?"

"I go to his cabin. It's logical that I confront him on his own turf," Reid said. "He feels safe there and in control. We need to play up to that, including me going in there alone."

"No," Hotch and Morgan said together. "You're not going up there alone."

"Hotch is right," JJ laid her hand on his shoulder. "Spence, this is Gideon. You can't just go in there alone."

He yanked his arm away from her hand. Maeve touched his face. He shuddered, but she didn't pull away. He closed his eyes, and breathed in. "I don't want to go up there. I'm no match for Gideon, I know that."

"You can't do this alone," Maeve said. "Let them help you."

"Reid," Blake was saying. "You don't have to prove anything to us."

"Is that what you think?" He stood up and walked through Maeve. "You don't trust me anymore. You all think I've lost it since Maeve died."

"That's not true, Spence."

"Yes it is. Hotch," he turned to his boss. "You're the one that said telling Peter the truth was all about Maeve. You couldn't wait to jump on me about it. Of course, Morgan and JJ couldn't wait to tell you all about it."

"Kid, I was only trying -"

"I know what you were trying to do. You still think I'm a kid, you still call me that even though we've worked together for nearly ten years."

"Reid."

"No, Rossi, I'm done talking. I'm going up to the cabin. You'll have to put me in restraints to stop me."

He turned and stalked out of the room. "Spencer," Maeve called out as she floated after him. "Don't let him tear you apart. Please don't go up there alone. You need your team."

"We can't let him walk out of here," Hotch began.

"Aaron," Rossi said. "He needs to do this. Let him go."

"What, you propose we just let him walk alone into the lion's den."

"No, I don't," Hotch said. "We'll follow him. Gideon knows me, and he will expect it. He wants all of us there."

"Why," JJ asked. "Why is he doing this?"

"Because he blames us for Sarah's death."

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The drive to Gideon's cabin seemed to take much longer than Reid remembered. The sun was going down as he headed into the Virginia woods, but he didn't see the way the light turned the pines black against the orange and pink of the sky. A few stars twinkled at the horizon, but otherwise the sky was clear.

He sighed and slowed down a bit to make the turn off to Gideon's cabin. The wash of yellow brightness from his headlights showed the cabin was dark, except for one light shining in the window of the living area. He shut off the engine and sat for a long time.

"I don't know if you're really there, Maeve. I feel that you've been with me since you died, but logically I have to believe it's just the grieving process. Here," he placed a hand over his heart, "I can't stop believing that you're watching over me. If it's true, walk with me now."

He went to the door, opened it and walked inside to a showdown that was years in the making.

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The burner cell rang as Hotch piloted the SUV carrying the rest of the team and leading another truck carrying state police troopers. "Hotchner," he said.

"Where's Reid?"

"Jason, I'm surprised you're playing this game with us. You know he's on his way to see you. Calling and demanding to speak to him in a certain time frame or you'll kill Garcia is just a smoke screen."

"You're right," and Gideon laughed, a chilling sound that stood the hair up on Hotch's neck. "Just as I know you're not far behind our Golden Boy."

"I couldn't let him confront you alone, Jason."

"True and I'm so glad I was right again. I do want all of you here. It wouldn't be the same without you. I want you to witness my final triumph."

The phone went dead and Hotch tossed it away.

"What?"

Hotch met Morgan's eyes in the rearview as the sun marked its final descent and passed over the horizon. "He's planning to take both of them out. He wants us there to watch."

"Step on it, Aaron," Rossi said with a smile like hungry wolf. "Let's not disappoint him."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

Reid barely noticed the furnishings of Gideon's cabin. His eyes tracked to Garcia, who sat bound and gagged in a wooden chair. The only lamp in the room sat on a corner table near her and illuminated her tear streaked face. She shook her head at him. He tried to smile reassuringly at her, but he just couldn't make his mouth curve into a grin.

Gideon, it seemed, didn't have the same problem. He was smiling broadly, warmly, just as Reid remembered from days long past. In fact, Reid nearly lowered his weapon, would have lowered it, had there been light in Gideon's eyes. Well, that and the fact that he held a very large gun on Garcia. Reid lifted his gun back to level and said. "Hello, Gideon."

"Hello, Spencer. I've been waiting for you. I'm very disappointed that it took you so long to figure out the puzzle, but then you always were disappointing in so many ways."

"What do you want?" Reid edged closer to Garcia.

"What do you want," Gideon parroted in a sarcastic tone. "Why are you doing this? Why is it that you can't come up with something more original?"

He stepped forward and gestured with his gun. "Stay back for now, Spencer. You know what a weapon this caliber can do to a pretty face like Garcia's."

Garcia sniffed audibly, and mumbled against the duct tape over her mouth. Her dark eyes shined with tears. Her cheeks were red and she stared at Reid as though he had all the answers. He shivered. "It's going to be okay, Penelope."

"Is it?" Gideon asked calmly. "Are you sure about that? I wouldn't believe in him, my dear," he said to Garcia. "He's failed twice in as many weeks, to talk down a dangerous psychopath. I think he's ready for the nut house, don't you?"

He laid the gun gently to her left temple. Her muffled attempt at a scream sounded like "Gmpf…"

"Yes, you're right. He is a failure."

"Why don't you trade me for her? You let her go and I'll let you kill me. It's what you've wanted for years. After all, you blame me for Sarah's death."

Garcia shook her head and struggled against her bonds. Gideon ignored her for a few seconds. "Yes, I do. I blame all of you. Where's Aaron and the rest of the cavalry. I know he didn't let you come up here alone. In fact, I happen to know he's on his way."

"Come on, Gideon, let Garcia go and I'll take her place as your sacrificial lamb."

"What an interesting thing to say."

"You want one or both of us dead. How will the team come back after that?"

Gideon chuckled and it sent a chill down Spencer's spine, but he held his gun steady. "That's quite arrogant of you. When did you become sure of your own importance?"

"I'm not sure of my own importance. You're the one that's out for revenge. You tell me why Garcia and I are so important."

Gideon chuckled. "You're right; I always hated Penelope Garcia for her color and her never ending optimism. She's the epitome of naiveté, even more than you are. Hotch said, once, that you're the soul of this team. Soul," he guffawed. "You're nothing but an overeducated, socially inept kid that thinks he's the smartest one in any room."

"Are we going to discuss our faults," Reid said wearily, "or are you going to let Garcia go."

Gideon nodded. "Of course, she's of no importance now that you're here."

He reached down and ripped the tape off her mouth. She whimpered and began to sob. "Reid, d-don't -"

"It's okay," he said softly, as Gideon cut the zip ties while keeping his gun pointed at Reid. "Just go."

"No," she stood up, swayed and rubbed at her wrists. "I'm not leaving you.

"Yes, the team will be here in a minute. Go meet them."

"No," she repeated. "I'm not leaving.

She edged away from Gideon, but he had his gun on Reid. She retreated to the door and stood there, with tears running down her face. For the first time in weeks, Reid smiled.

"Why are you so happy?"

"Because I've got a win-win scenario here."

Gideon clamped his teeth together. "Really, why?"

"If you kill me, then I'll join Maeve forever. If you let me live, I'll spend the rest of my life honoring her memory. She's the one that taught me to love, Jason."

"There's no such thing as love, only heartbreak," Gideon said. "You should know that better than anyone."

"No," Reid said. "No matter how much pain loving Maeve has cost me, I'd do it all over again. I will not descend into permanent despair."

"You won't have the chance, because we're through talking."

Gideon raised the gun and began to squeeze the trigger.

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Maeve drifted close to Spencer as he confronted the man he once saw as a mentor and surrogate father. How could this man turn on Spencer? How could he kill? She couldn't let it happen. "No," she screamed when Gideon began to squeeze the trigger.

Everything began to slow down. Spencer stared directly at Gideon as he pulled the trigger, but it was like a slow motion CGI effect in a movie. She lunged forward and rested one hand on Gideon's gun hand. She pushed it aside just as the gun went off with a deafening bang. She could see the bullet as it left the barrel. Molecules moved around the projectile in waves, like a stone skipping in a pond of water. It passed through her as she whirled around and screamed as it arrowed toward Spencer. It slammed into his chest and he fell to the floor in a heap.

She fell too, and lay there hovering above the floor as Gideon stared down at Spencer with an expression of puzzlement and anger. He started forward just as Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi tackled him from behind.

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They'd just hit the door when the deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the cabin. Morgan was the first to gain entry, followed by Hotch and Rossi, with JJ, Blake and the local LEOs. They restrained Gideon with a minimum of effort. Rossi took his gun and passed it to Blake.

"Reid," Garcia screamed. "Gideon shot him."

Morgan hurried over to Reid while Maeve lay completely drained of whatever energy she had as a ghost, spirit, or poltergeist. "Oh god," she cried. "I couldn't stop him."

Then, Reid coughed, rolled to one side and tried to get up. Joy and sorrow such as she'd never known warred inside Maeve. He was all right, but that meant that he was forever beyond her reach, at least until it was his time. How long? How long did she have to wait? If only she could cry.

"Lie still," Morgan, ordered. "You got shot kid. We need to get you to the hospital and -"

"No, it's okay. I've got a vest on under this shirt and jacket."

He pulled up his dark blue and white striped shirt and showed them the flack jacket. Morgan grinned. "Jesus, kid, you were lucky. He could have gone for your head."

"I think he did. Something seemed to move his hand. It's weird. I've been shot before, but this felt different."

Morgan patted his shoulder. "You're in a bit of shock, I think. Why don't we get you out of here?"

Reid looked up at Garcia and his friend simply smiled and shook her head. "What was that?" He asked her as she grabbed him in a hug that had him wincing in pain.

"Who knows," she said with a wink. "Maybe you have a guardian angel."

Maeve finally floated to her feet and drifted along behind Spencer as they left the cabin. She felt the first real burst of pleasure that nearly drowned out her sorrow. She'd made a difference. She'd saved the life of the one most precious to her. It was right, even though it hurt that she'd have to wait on the other side of heaven for him.

CMCMCMCM

"Interesting," Rossi said to Hotch as they followed the LEOs that were taking Gideon to a waiting black and white. "Gideon had to know that Reid would wear a vest. Why shoot him in the chest? Why not go for the head shot?"

Hotch shook his head. "I don't know. Perhaps, in the end he couldn't go through with it."

"You don't really believe that," Rossi said.

Hotch looked back at the cabin. "I don't know. I only know that I didn't see what happened in those minutes before the shot. I do know that Gideon didn't set this up, just to change his mind at the last minute. Something strange happened, but I don't care what, as long as Garcia and Reid are okay, and this team is intact."

Rossi nodded in agreement. "We're in perfect accord on that score, Aaron. Let's go home."

_**A/n one more chapter to go.**_


	15. Chapter 15

**_Disclaimer: see my profile_**

**_A/n thank you all for your support of this story. I'm so pleased you enjoyed this ride. Thank you again to my wonderful beta. This chapter is dedicated to her _**

**_Epilogue_**

The Light hadn't come for her. She didn't understand why. She'd finished what she needed to do. It was time to move on even though she knew it meant she'd be leaving him for good.

_You can't watch over him forever. He'll never heal if you don't go._

She floated near the window and thought as she watched him take a record out of a plastic bag. He'd found it in an old dusty shop in Arlington, which amazed her. Who bought records when you could download music from the internet in seconds?

"There," he whispered when he gently put the needle of the player to the wax disc.

The strains of a song she hadn't heard in years filled the room. She couldn't remember the name of it, but it reminded of days long ago when men and women actually took time to just be with each other.

The music touched something inside her. She couldn't suppress the overwhelming desire to have him in her embrace so she glided to him and touched his arm.

He flinched, turned his head and stumbled back in shock. His face went bone white. "Maeve," he said.

She lifted a hand and held it out to him as he backed away from her. "You're not hallucinating, baby. I'm really here."

"You're here," he said.

"Yes. I've been here since…"

"I thought I was going crazy. There were times I could feel your presence so strongly. I even thought I heard your voice a few times."

She reached out again and he took her hand. Their fingers twined together and for the first time, she noticed that her hand was transparent against his skin.

"I can go now."

"No," he said. "Please don't go. I don't know how to go on with you."

She raised her hand to his cheek and he shivered. He felt so warm, but she must be cold to him. Still, she was able to pull him forward. She touched her lips to his mouth and he sighed. "I love you," she whispered.

"I'll always love you."

He stood there staring at her as if he'd never seen her until that moment. She smiled and he grinned. "Dance with me," she said.

He nodded and pulled her into his arms. He pressed her close and she closed her eyes. He was so warm. She could feel the beat of his heart against her chest and smell coffee on his breath as he breathed.

"Why didn't you move on?"

"Because somehow, I knew you were in danger. I had to protect you."

Tears began to shimmer in his eyes. "You were there when…"

"Yes, I'm so sorry."

"I'm afraid."

She squeezed his hand. "Why? He can't hurt you anymore."

He pulled back a little to look into her eyes. "You were there in the cabin and you know what I said to him. I was full of bravado, but I'm afraid that losing you will unhinge my mind, no matter what I said to Gideon."

"No," she insisted. "You're stronger than him. You're not going to snap one day and start killing people."

"How can you say that? You're a geneticist. You know my history."

"Spencer, if death has taught me anything, it's that genetics aren't everything. You're years past the onset of schizophrenia in males. I believe in you, baby. You're going to be fine."

"I hope you're right."

"I am. Now, I have to go. Promise me you won't hide away here and cry."

"I can't promise that," he said as tears dropped from his eyes. "I'll always love you."

"And, I'll always love you, for eternity, but you need to find someone."

"Maeve, I can't -"

"Yes, you can and you will. I know it, just as I knew you were in danger. You'll find someone and you'll have beautiful babies and a happy life. Just promise me you'll think of me once in awhile."

He smiled gently through his tears. "That's a promise I can keep."

"Then, it's time for me to go. I'll be waiting for you."

"It hurts, Maeve. When will the hurting stop?"

She drifted back and let her hand slip out of his grasp. Losing the warmth of his touch broke her heart again and pain flashed through her like a sword thrust. She managed a smile for him. "I don't know when it stops, but it will end. Just take it one moment at a time."

He nodded as more tears slid down his cheeks. "I'll try."

"Goodbye, my sweet Spencer. I love you."

"I love you too, Maeve. Be at peace."

She nodded and walked through golden light to eternity.

He blinked and she was gone, as was the Light. He went back to the record player and started "Sleepwalk" again. This time, he closed his eyes and let the beauty wash over him.

She'd always be there in the song, his own personal guardian angel. He knew for sure that she'd always be with him and some of the pain he'd felt for weeks, became joy. He'd wait, he'd watch, and someday, when his time came, he'd be with her again on the other side of heaven.

_**THE END**_


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